


Not Suitable for Work

by sifuhotman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Office, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Sexual Content, M/M, Rivalry, Slow Burn, rated M for "My god these bitches take so fucking long to dick down"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 103,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifuhotman/pseuds/sifuhotman
Summary: When Sakusa learns that he’s the top candidate for a promotion at MSBY Consulting, LLC, he knows his hard, quality work should make him a shoo-in. Unfortunately, his competition is Atsumu, the worst coworker Sakusa's ever had.It should be a piece of cake, taking a self-centered prick like Atsumu down, but it proves increasingly difficult when Sakusa realizes he’s starting to fall for him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 1053
Kudos: 984





	1. the one with the opportunity

“You have got to be fucking _kidding_ me.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi must have been a serial killer in a past life. Or maybe a con artist. Or maybe he skipped cleaning the pans after cooking lunch, or ghosted one too many girls, or committed voter fraud. Sure, he might not have been a saint, but he certainly didn’t think he deserved to put up with this kind of nonsensical bullshit at eight in the morning—before he even had a chance to sit down with his morning coffee.

“I wish, Sakusa.” Inunaki dropped a thick stack of folders on Sakusa’s desk. A flash of sympathy crossed his face, but Sakusa didn’t miss the flash of amusement, either. For an administrative assistant, he sure got an incredible kick out of seeing other underlings in pain. If consequences didn’t exist, Sakusa would’ve said something about it. “Meian-san said to assign these to you.”

Sakusa sifted through the reports, sighing as he saw post-it note after post-it note with ugly words that were quite possibly the bane of his existence: _PENDING REVIEW._ He pinched the bridge of his nose as Inunaki waited expectedly. This wasn’t fair. These weren’t a part of his projects; he wasn’t even on Hanamaki’s team; this shouldn’t have been his responsibility. “I’ll get to these by next—”

“Meian said they needed to be closed by Friday,” Inunaki interrupted. He paused. “Sorry.”

Sakusa took a controlled, deep breath. He didn’t feel in control. He felt a lot of other things—rage, mostly. Indignation. Annoyance, though not at Inunaki. Definitely pissed, specifically at Hanamaki, who’d been the source of much of Sakusa’s suffering for the past year. But nothing he’d done leading up to his grand exit could possibly compare to the flippant email Sakusa had the joy of waking up to.

* * *

> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro <thanamaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Internal Employees — All
> 
> **Subject** : Letter of Resignation
> 
> Dear Meian-san et al.,
> 
> It has come to my attention that I did not put in my two weeks’ notice. I wish I had a better explanation other than “I forgot.” Unfortunately, I do not.
> 
> In light of this realization, I am writing to inform you that I am considering myself fired from MSBY Consulting, LLC, effective immediately. I will no longer be coming to work beginning today, because I need to go to my new job elsewhere.
> 
> Please accept my sincerest apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused, and I wish all of you best of luck in your future endeavors. 
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Hanamaki Takahiro

* * *

Best regards, his ass. Sakusa knew for a fact that Hanamaki was the kind of son of a bitch who’d do this on purpose, cackling as he hit the cursed _send_ button. He’d made it abundantly clear to the point where it was a bit painful, from his lack of getting shit done at work as well as literally saying out loud—multiple times— _I could not fucking care less about this job._ It would’ve been fine if Hanamaki had at least closed out the open files that he never got around to doing, or at least given Sakusa the heads up that he was leaving.

Instead, no: he _had_ to submit his letter of resignation and copy the entire office. And he _had_ to leave the entire office to clean up his mess.

“I’m still backed up with the audit reports from last month,” Sakusa said through clenched teeth. He rubbed his jaw. “I cannot take anymore on my plate right now, Inunaki-san. I don’t have the time or mental capacity.” Not to mention Sakusa’s primary responsibility was peer-reviewing Bokuto’s reports, who was notorious for forgetting words and scattering commas whenever he felt like adding them for ‘flavor’. “They’re not going to get done.”

Inunaki shrugged. His hair was neatly combed, and his tie—pink with white checkers—peeked out at Sakusa from under his jacket. “I’m sorry.”

Sakusa reached for his coffee, wishing it wasn’t lukewarm instant-brewed coffee and craving a drink of bourbon instead. “It’s fine. Is that all?”

“Meian also said to put a fifteen-minute slot on his calendar,” Inunaki added. “Whatever time you find free.”

“For what?”

“To hell if I know. But make sure you do it fast. When I booked him for a call with Seijoh, his calendar had, like, two free slots.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“He said after hours is okay, too.”

Sakusa snorted. Of course Meian would say that. Of course he’d subtly encourage that. Because _Rome wasn’t built in a day_ , so, therefore, a reputable consulting firm couldn’t build itself during the day, either, and required late nights complete with delivery for dinner.

Sakusa sipped his coffee and waved Inunaki off, grimacing at the bitterness that was strong despite tasting like dirty water. He shrugged off his jacket and clicked his laptop on, pulling up his calendar. Back-to-back meetings all morning. A meager lunch break. A one-hour presentation from the R&D division. And two hours that he’d booked for himself, hoping he’d get a chance to get his actual work done instead of wasting his time in pointless meetings.

There was one tiny slot left in Meian’s work day, only ten minutes, at six. He didn’t speak much in meetings, so he guessed they wouldn’t need more than that. After sending it off, Sakusa pulled out his phone to send a much-needed message.

> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> You’re a dick.

Hanamaki responded immediately.

> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> sorry man i’ll make it up to you sometime!

Sakusa doubted it. While he’d enjoyed Hanamaki’s laid-back presence throughout the past few months that they worked together, his flakiness had forever tainted his status as a reliable person in Sakusa’s mind. He showed up late, left early, and generally made it clear that he’d much rather have his ‘me’ time than put in work to benefit the company.

Which was—fair. Fair, because Sakusa had spent the past several months suffering. He hadn’t expected work to be easy, but he hadn’t expected it to completely consume any boundary between ‘work’ and ‘personal’ life. Sakusa recently had to have the waistband of his pants taken in, and every morning, as he brushed his teeth, he cursed the dark circles under his eyes.

There were worse things that could have happened. He could have had to take care of a family on top of working twelve hour workdays. He could have had a ridiculously long commute, wedged in between bodies that were neither pleasant nor sanitary. He could have been underpaid and undervalued by his coworkers, but Sakusa knew he was valued and he knew he was paid fairly.

It was just—well, quite frankly, it sucked. He’d had hopes that things would get better, after the hectic close of last December, but the new year only brought on new problems—like Hanamaki deciding to jump ship, middle finger guns blazing.

“Hey, Sakusa-san.”

Sakusa glanced over at Hinata, who also carried a stack of papers.

“What?” He didn’t even know why he bothered asking. It was clear why Hinata was here. Sakusa liked Hinata, he really did; despite his flaws, Hinata was hardworking and straightforward and empathetic and kind. Unlike Hanamaki. Hanamaki, that fucking slacker.

Sakusa pulled out his phone as Hinata placed the stack on Sakusa’s desk. “Sorry.” 

“All of you need to learn how to save your apologies for when you actually mean it,” Sakusa muttered, but it didn’t matter. He had—Sakusa glanced at his watch—three minutes to get to conference room C for the first of a long string of meetings today.

> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> You owe me about ten different drinks on ten different occasions.
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> u got it boss! :D

Ironically, Sakusa wasn’t a boss at all. In fact, he was the exact opposite of a boss. He was merely one of the many pencil pushers at MSBY Consulting, an up-and-coming consulting firm that specialized in third-party vendor auditing, which was a fancy way of saying, “identifying and pointing out problems in the vendor's systems and policies, then writing detailed and boring reports about said problems”. A mind-numbing job, for sure, but his work would be used to help shape contracts between client and vendor, so at least it was useful.

Sakusa’s role was often ‘that bitch who pointed out everything we did wrong.’ It wasn’t a great role to fill, but that came hand in hand with working as a consultant. Most of his time was spent doing peer review these days, which he was thankful for, because he was tired of dealing with bratty clients and their uncooperative vendors.

His title was a specialist, not a manager, so why were people constantly asking him to do things that weren’t in his job description?

“I’m assuming those are from Hanamaki-kun,” Sakusa said coolly. 

Hinata nodded. His appearance was slightly disheveled, as if he’d been running late this morning and barely managed to tuck the tails of his shirt into his khakis. “These are the invoices he didn’t have the chance to submit—”

“He didn’t even submit _invoices_?”

“Sorry,” Hinata said, even though it wasn’t his fault. “Meian wants to submit them, though. He said the company still gets a cut of resources, even if Hanamaki-san isn’t here anymore.”

“Okay.”

“He also asked you to let Hanamaki know he has two weeks to put in a claim for the money he’s owed, otherwise he won’t get to receive it. And he asked you to review the invoices and Hanamaki’s log for the hours he put in before sending them off to clients.”

“How many are there?”

“Uh. I don’t know.” Hinata eyed the pile. “Maybe twenty?"

“ _Twenty_?” Sakusa took another measured breath. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have energy for this. Caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, and neither had his sense of sanity. “Jesus. Does he have any left over from last year or something?”

“Meian-san thinks there might be duplicates.”

“Can’t Meian get Inunaki to do it? Or one of the other admins?”

Hinata shifted on the balls of his feet. “He told me to give it to you. That’s all he said.”

Sakusa closed his eyes. It was a Monday morning, and he could already visualize working through the weekend. If he even made it there. “I’ll get these submitted by—”

“He requested by Friday.”

 _I am going to burn this building to the ground,_ Sakusa thought. 

“Got it.”

“Happy Monday, Sakusa-san!” Hinata’s eyes still had the youthful glow that an entry-level employee had. None of those heavy, distressed expressions that Sakusa felt were a part of him now. Hinata waved as he bounced out of the office space, leaving Sakusa alone with his coffee, two piles of work that weren’t supposed to be his responsibility, and the feeling that this would only be the start to an incredibly awful week.

* * *

MSBY Consulting probably wasn’t the worst company Sakusa could have worked for. He had a couple years of experience before joining, but he lacked the tolerance for bullshit that most people developed over time. It never made sense _why_ people didn’t do things correctly. He’d dealt with that in college, in group projects and partnered presentations, but he thought that coming to the full-time-employment world would show him that there were people out there like him, who worked well and provided results that were a product of their commitment to excellence.

It turned out that working in an office was no better than a glorified version of _Mean Girls_ , complete with office drama, politics, and reeking of nepotism. It was a rude awakening he didn’t expect to have, especially for a firm like MSBY, that boasted of _Integrity, Honesty, and Ethics_ to its clients.

Sakusa had expected that, by the time he was twenty-eight, he’d be settled at a company that gave him great benefits, let him leave early on Fridays, and offered programs with career development. At least, that had been the plan.

Yeah. Fat good MSBY ever did for him. The company boasted of employees with charisma, and that was pretty much it—charisma. No tact, no professionalism, no sense of principle. Deadlines were a suggestion. Company happy hours were talked about more than the most pressing projects on everyone’s plates. People cared more about internal company gossip than external company reputation.

Which was—fine. Because Sakusa could deal with people who had questionable morals. The real problem, though, was the people with questionable work ethics. He had no tolerance for _that._

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi was the type of guy to never half-ass anything. He was a total pedal to the metal type of guy, for better or for worse. There were times when he questioned if that was a good thing, or if he should just throw in the towel and join the ranks of people like Hanamaki and Daishou, who fucked around in the office (literally and figuratively), collected their paychecks, and dipped out of company meetings faster than you could ask what they’d been working on.

There was that streak of pride that ran through Sakusa’s DNA, wired into his brain and his very essence of being, that refused to release him. He couldn’t half-ass things; he couldn’t overlook things. Most importantly, Sakusa couldn’t just not _do_ things, and so, by the time the clock hit three, Sakusa looked over at his stack of reports to review and sighed.

It wasn’t like his brain even let him push it off until later. He _had_ to do it, and he had to do it well. 

So Sakusa picked up the first report (dated from three months ago) and started reading. He had a fresh cup of coffee at his desk, dropped off by Inunaki—an apology of some sorts from Meian, probably—and about ten million other things to do, but if there was one thing Sakusa insisted on, it was finishing out what people often gave up on.

It felt good to knock items off of his ever-growing, never-ending checklist. Sakusa wondered if he’d somehow convinced himself to feel a sense of pride in completing a string of tasks, rather than a sense of exhaustion and fatigue. Yeah. That was probably it. Some sort of twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome.

When a notification popped up on his email— _In five minutes: One on One with Meian Shugo_ —Sakusa stuck a post-it note on the page of the report he’d been reviewing, stood up, and stretched. He winced at the sound of his spine cracking and rolled out his neck and shoulders as he made his way over to the elevator.

Sakusa sat in a cubicle surrounded by some of the most frustrating folks he’d ever met. There was Bokuto, who was accustomed to speaking in an outdoor voice despite the very enclosed space, Hinata, whose kindness made him overwhelmingly accustomed to frequent side chatter, Adriah, who kept a stash of vodka and gin under his desk. Then there were people like Kageyama and Tsukishima, who always seemed to be arguing about one thing or another regardless of time, place, occasion, or topic. Suna, who couldn’t give two fucks about his job and nonchalantly scrolled Twitter and Reddit in the middle of meetings. And, of course, there was Miya Atsumu, who was—for all intents and purposes of the word—a prick.

When he’d graduated from university, Sakusa didn’t consider himself the best of the best or the brightest of the brightest. He’d considered himself of average value with mediocre skills, but based on his time as a fully-fledged, working adult, he realized that he was actually the exact opposite. And it wasn’t because Sakusa was gifted or smart or anything like that. It was because Sakusa actually gave a shit.

At least he had a window cubicle overlooking the busy streets of Tokyo at night, glittering and keeping him company when he worked late. Sakusa pulled at the sleeves of his button-down and made sure his fly was zipped before pushing into Meian’s office suite.

The door to Meian’s office swung open at precisely the same time—by none other than Miya Atsumu.

Sakusa offered him a curt nod, polite and respectable, which was honestly more than Atsumu deserved. “Miya.”

Atsumu’s lips curled up in a pompous smirk. “Omi.”

Sakusa’s eye twitched. There were more than a few reasons he didn’t like Atsumu. The main one was that Atsumu was the kind of person who’d rather schmooze with upper management rather than earning his reputation in the office. 

The second one was that Atsumu seemed hell-bent on pissing Sakusa off. It was the little things, too—stuff like leaving his coffee cup on his desk when he swung by to annoy him, insisting on pushing back timelines to accommodate clients that failed to offer the same respect in return. Atsumu consistently sent snarky responses to Sakusa’s (admittedly passive aggressive) emails, embarrassed coworkers for making small errors in their work, and questioned every small decision made regarding projects he didn’t even have anything to do with. No one else seemed to have a problem with it.

But no one else seemed to have standards, either. So. Atsumu was a pain in the ass, a thorn in Sakusa’s side, and maybe even a thorn in Sakusa’s ass as well. To put it simply, Miya Atsumu was the most insufferable person he’d ever had the privilege of working with.

Unlike Sakusa—who felt about as crusty as he probably looked—Atsumu looked like he’d walked straight out of an advertisement for Armani. His bleach blonde hair was swept to the side, and while other people in the office opted for business casual attire, Atsumu, without a fail, always wore a full suit. Today, he wore a navy blue jacket with matching pants that hugged his shoulders and tapered at the ankles. Impeccably polished shoes. A thick, flashy watch at his wrist. Crisp button down, neatly trimmed nails. Glittering black studs in both of his earlobes unexpectedly finished off the look. 

Was wearing earrings professional? Did it negate the professional appearance of his over-the-top suit? Sakusa hadn’t figured it out yet. All Sakusa had figured out was that Atsumu was a series of contradictions, and none of them were good. 

The most noticeable aspect of Atsumu's appearance, however, was his face. Atsumu had a way of twisting his features with such arrogance that Sakusa was sure one day he’d take a swing to knock it off. Sakusa was also sure, without reasonable doubt, that the road was paved to hell with demons that bore remarkable resemblance to Miya Atsumu. 

“Have a good Monday?” Atsumu drawled. Sakusa squashed down his irritation at the man’s voice. He never had a problem with the Hyogo dialect until he had to put up with it every fucking day, snarky and unrelenting and driving him damn near up a wall.

“It was fine.”

“Looks like you been havin’…” Atsumu’s eyes swept across Sakusa from head to toe, “a busy day.”

“It’s Monday,” Sakusa quipped. “It’s always busy.”

“When was the last time you took a vacation, Omi-kun?” Atsumu placed a hand on his hip. The presumptuous movement made Sakusa’s blood boil. “Maybe you're overdue for some time off.”

Sakusa’s fists clenched, and of course, Atsumu noticed it—and absolutely relished in it. “Some of us have our jobs to do, Miya.”

“Always the hard worker, ain’tcha?” Atsumu waved him off as he ambled out of the room. “Work smart, Omi Omi, not hard.”

_Fuck this guy._

Sakusa pushed his curls out of his face and heaved a couple of breaths to collect himself. It wasn’t worth it to allow Atsumu to get him all riled up over nothing. _Working smart_ always sounded like a dirty method, anyway, one that implied that the rules and systems in place to ensure integrity were merely rules and systems that should’ve been worked around. Sakusa didn’t believe in that, and he didn’t believe for half a second that Atsumu knew jack shit.

He lifted his hand to the wide oak door of Meian’s office and rapped on it three times. “Come in.” Meian’s voice was muffled but didn’t harbor anything that seemed like Sakusa should be on edge, so after another controlled breath, Sakusa pushed the doors open and walked in.

Meian wasn’t a terrible boss by any means. He operated with gusto and passion for the company that even Sakusa had to admire him for, especially considering how much passion was lacking from Sakusa’s life these days. It was nearly unheard of that a director-level employee would only be in their early thirties, but Meian had spent enough time in corporate to give him keen awareness and sharp judgement when dealing with tricky situations.

Meian had saved every ass of each employee in their department—including Sakusa’s, though it hadn’t been his fault—and Sakusa respected him for it. Respected him enough to continue working crazy hours and respond to ad hoc requests despite the growing pile of responsibilities that had been shoved in his direction.

“Sakusa! How are you today?” Meian closed an open notebook on his desk and gestured to the chair across from him. His thick black hair had begun to fall out of its carefully gelled style, and there was a half-eaten salad perched at the corner of his desk, the distinct smell of sesame oil lingering in the air.

“Hi, Meian-san,” Sakusa responded. He sat in the creaky leather seat, wincing at his lower back cracking in protest. “I’m alright.”

“Great, great. I know you must have a lot on your plate right now, so I’ll keep it short.” Meian grinned widely at him, what most other people would interpret as an honest grin. But Sakusa knew better. He knew that Meian hadn’t made it as far as he’d gotten from honesty alone.

Not to mention, Sakusa had, on more than one occasion, seen Meian get riled up at company happy hours, where three drinks would be more than enough to break out the most unfiltered areas of Meian’s personality. It was refreshing, in its own way, but also terrifying.

“Yeah.” Sakusa paused. “I wanted to ask you about that, actually.”

“Hm?”

Sakusa’s heartbeat threatened to jump right out of his chest as he swallowed. He didn’t bitch about work to Meian much—at all, actually. He never thought it was a good look on other people, so he didn’t put it on himself, but the growing anxiety and stress from deadlines and having to pick up on Hanamaki’s slack really, really bothered him. “About Hanamaki’s reports.”

“Ah. Sorry about that.” Meian nodded. “I know I had to dump them on you out of nowhere, but I didn’t know who else could handle that kind of work.”

“I understand that, but—”

“If it’s too much for you, feel free to distribute it among your floor,” Meian continued. He reached for a glass of water on his desk (at least, it was probably water, but Sakusa knew better than to assume). “I want those closed out completely by the end of the month.”

It took Sakusa about half a second to decide that sharing the workload definitely wasn’t an option. Full stop. Entrusting a backlog of reports to people who worked at a sixty-percent acceptability rate would drag things on even longer. So it looked like he’d be doing it himself. “I understand.”

“Hanamaki, that bastard—his email completely caught me off guard.” A flash of amusement caught Sakusa’s attention, but Meian’s expression remained somber. His dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Sakusa wondered if he’d directly communicated with Hanamaki in the wake of his email. “Did you have any idea he was looking for another job?”

Of course Sakusa did. He’d caught Hanamaki scrolling through job boards on more than one occasion. Hanamaki had even—somehow—convinced Sakusa to book a fake meeting together so he could have a conference room with himself for a phone interview. On more than one occasion. “No.”

“Can’t say I’m happy. The guy was great to have around, but he really fucked us over. It’ll be hard to replace him.” No, not really. “But we do what we can to move on.”

Sakusa nodded carefully. Why was he here again? “Of course.”

“The biggest issue, as you can probably find out, is that we need a manager now.”

Sakusa nodded again. He did that a lot in meetings, a tip from his cousin about how to get others to feel like they were being heard.

“This is something I wanted to bring up with you privately.” Meian straightened his back and clasped his hands together on top of his desk. His physicality was intimidating, and it was something Sakusa never wanted to cross in a negative context. “We’re opening the manager position for internally nominated candidates.”

Sakusa nodded. Yeah. That made sense. Hanamaki’s role could’ve been filled by basically anyone in the company. Maybe some were better options than others, but options were there.

“You are one of two of my top choices.”

Oh. This was news.

“Huh?” Sakusa said, because he hadn’t seen a promotion in nearly three years. 

Meian broke out into a wide grin. Sakusa’s stomach tightened in anticipation and he discreetly wiped his palms on his pants. “You’re a hard worker, Sakusa. I see the amount of work you put into supporting your team and leading your projects. In my eyes, that makes you absolutely fit for the job.”

Sakusa had kind of been banking on doing ‘just good enough’. Although, his definition of ‘good enough’ was clearly unmatched by everyone else in this goddamn company. “I see.”

“That’s only if you’re interested, of course.”

“I’m interested,” Sakusa blurted. He blinked, astounded that this was an actual conversation happening and not some sort of fever dream. 

“Good. Luckily, Hanamaki’s current client—Rocket Pharm—they just closed out their final qualification cycle, so he doesn’t have any active contracts going. But Seijoh told me they wanted to use Hanamaki for the re-qualification of their accounting vendors, so we need to find a quick replacement for that.” Meian raises an eyebrow. “Think you can handle it?”

Probably not, considering that Sakusa’s peer review pile was taller than the Tokyo tower. “Of course.”

“Good. We’re looking to fill the manager position by the end of this quarter, or beginning of next quarter. Interviews will be after a thorough review of performance and feedback from teams and clients.” Meian leaned to his right and opened a drawer to his large oak desk. His head disappeared for a moment as he sifted through files before pulling out a manila envelope.

He slid it across the desk, and Sakusa stared at it, the big black letters staring back at him.

_MSBY CONSULTING, LLC — AUDITS & PROJECT MANAGEMENT DIVISION _

_MANAGER POSITION — OPEN — INTERNAL CANDIDATES ONLY_

“I just got the green light to announce it to you and our other top candidate. Other people probably expect that this is open, but we haven’t announced it yet.” Meian gestured for Sakusa to take the folder. “We were going to post to our internal job board in the next week or so, but we wanted to wait and see if our nominated candidates were interested for priority consideration.

Sakusa picked up the folder and set it on his lap. Despite being thin and having only a few sheets of paper in it, it felt incredibly heavy.

“This is the job description. I’m glad to hear you verbally accept it, but review this information first, as well as our timelines and pre-requisites for formal consideration. Shoot Inunaki an email if you change your mind.”

Sakusa opened it. The job description adequately detailed everything Hanamaki was supposed to do. With a quick glance through the bullet points, Sakusa could count only three items that Hanamaki had done on a regular basis.

On most days, Sakusa would’ve probably been annoyed, but right now, he was more amused that Hanamaki got away with half the shit he did. That glorious son of a bitch. Sakusa made a mental note to demand Hanamaki take him out for drinks this weekend.

“It’ll be different from your current role, Sakusa. You’d be supervising a team along with overseeing contracts with clients. So think hard about whether or not this is something you really want. You excel at your current position, so it’s up to you to decide if you want to do more than that.”

“Yes, sir.” Sakusa closed the envelope.

“In my professional opinion, I haven’t seen anyone else more worthy of a promotion than you. I hope you’ll decide to pursue it and give it all you’ve got, so choose wisely.”

Sakusa knew that this sort of opportunity was too good to pass up. A manager position? At twenty-eight? Unheard of. 

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Sakusa knew he’d do whatever it took to get this promotion—or kill himself trying.

It was about time he grew from his specialist role, after all. Sakusa didn’t join the private consulting sector to have a cushy, nice nine-to-five, anyway. He joined in order to do bigger and better things, and his work ethic was testament to that—his work ethic would get him places, and this was the first step to getting there. He had a good feeling about this.

Too good of a feeling, actually. The overly cautious part of his mind warned him not to get too ahead of himself. Optimism bred misery, and Sakusa didn’t like being miserable, so instead of allowing himself to get too excited, Sakusa nodded solemnly. “My choices are always wise.”

“I’m lucky to have you on the team, Sakusa.” Meian stood up, and Sakusa imitated the motion. He placed his hands on his hips, eyes twinkling as he said, “I look forward to showing everyone exactly what you’re capable of in the coming months.”

“I am confident that I always show what I’m capable of.”

“That you do.” With a short nod, Meian effectively dismissed him, and Sakusa turned to the door, evidence of a potential promotion tucked under his arm.

This was it. This had to be it. 

With his hand on the doorknob, Sakusa paused. “Quick question.”

“Yes?” Meian paused clicking away at his computer.

“If I may ask—who’s the other candidate being considered?”

Sakusa Kiyoomi must have done something terrible in a past life to deserve the unfortunate turn of events that wrecked havoc in his professional life. He was paying penance, wasting away in purgatory, or maybe, just maybe, Sakusa just had really, terribly bad luck.

“Miya Atsumu.”

For fuck’s sake.

 _You have got_ , Sakusa thought as he slid out of the doors and headed back to his desk to close out another long work day, _to be fucking kidding me._


	2. the one with the coffee run

Sakusa didn’t have a game plan for securing the promotion. He found his way into his current position on accident—his cousin, Komori, had a friend-of-a-friend who worked at MSBY Consulting—so it was only fitting that a potential promotion came upon him completely by chance, too.

In all honesty, he’d planned on simply doing what he always did: putting in time and effort with everything he did related to work and anything that got thrown his way. He was sure his performance would speak for itself. 

So as he walked into work the next day, he decided not to let himself get too steamed over competing with _Atsumu,_ of all people. How lame. 

Suna Rintarou, however, had thoughts that said otherwise.

“Huh?” Suna dragged the syllable out. He’d dragged in a depressing sandwich into the conference room, where Sakusa had just presented updates regarding his current projects to Aran, their manager. “That’s it?”

Sakusa nodded. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had time to eat lunch today, since he’d been too busy scrambling to put together acceptable presentation slides and piece together metrics that could accurately reflect where his projects were. If he hadn’t spent time last night reviewing Hanamaki’s leftover work—and if management had given him adequate notice in advance that they wanted project updates—he probably would’ve had time to leave the office for udon takeout from next door. “Why?”

“I dunno. You’re up against Atsumu.” Suna slouched against the back of his chair as he poked at his sandwich. His hair had grown out like wild ivy since the last time he’d cut it, but he didn’t care. Sakusa couldn’t remember the last time he saw Suna sport an actual blazer, or any other kind of business-formal attire. The fanciest he’d seen him in were thick, wool cardigans that hung loose on his frame.

Today, Suna wore a hoodie that looked way too old, too ratty, and too informal to be wearing to work. At least he had the decency and awareness to pull it on after Aran had left the conference room.

“And?”

“And. Well. It’s Miya Atsumu.” Suna shrugged. No further words needed to be said. Sakusa gritted his teeth. _He_ hadn’t been the one to tell Suna that he was running against Atsumu. Atsumu, of course, had notified him. Who else he told? Couldn’t he keep his fucking mouth shut? How long until everyone in their department found out? Sakusa gave it until the end of the business day. “He’s…you know.”

Yeah. Sakusa _did_ know. As much as he hated to admit it, people liked Atsumu, though he failed to see why. While Sakusa’s matter-of-fact manner of speaking often had people tearing their hair in frustration and struggling to restrain themselves from taking it personally, no one seemed to have a problem with Atsumu’s attitude. “Are you saying you don’t think I have a chance?”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Suna paused. “You have a great chance.”

“Right.”

“Or, at least, a good one.”

Sakusa sighed. “Somehow, I get the feeling you don’t really mean that, Suna.”

Suna laughed in that sleepy, lazy manner of his. “I’m not lying, I promise. You have tons of qualities that Atsumu lacks.” Suna paused, and Sakusa’s mind had a split second to have a moment of realization: he was _not_ about to like whatever Suna said next. “But Atsumu has qualities you’re lacking in, too. So it’s pretty neck-in-neck, if you want my honest opinion.”

“Qualities?” Sakusa frowned. Sure, Atsumu had a lot of qualities that Sakusa lacked. Namely, the charismatic-asshole charm. And also, the kissing-ass-to-upper-management tendency of his. But he didn’t think that having deficiencies in those areas was necessarily a bad thing. “What kind of qualities?”

“The kind that gets you promoted out of company politics and nepotism—and not because of skill.” Suna tapped away on his laptop. The window behind him reflected a blurry screen that Sakusa could’ve sworn was Netflix. “Sakusa-kun, you’re a great worker, but Atsumu’s a sweet talker. If you want to get a promotion, you need to learn how to sweet talk, too.”

“I can sweet talk.”

Suna stared at him.

“I can,” Sakusa insisted, but it sounded like the most ridiculous of lies, even to him.

“Sure you can, Sakusa. And I’m a professional volleyball player.” Suna’s lips curled up in amusement at his own sarcasm.

“I’m not going to stoop down his level, Suna,” Sakusa said, firm and resolute. He knew better. He knew his personality wouldn’t let him even _try_ to be the sweet-talking type. 

“What level? The level that gets you a twenty percent raise in salary and pushes you from office bitch to office boss?”

Suna had a point.

“Even if I wanted to, I’m incapable of it.” Sakusa shook his head.

“In that case, I hope you get it. I can’t imagine Atsumu being a manager. He’s already as self-absorbed and obnoxious as it is.” Suna, of course, had to speak from experience—his boyfriend, after all, was Atsumu’s twin brother, who owned and operated the tiny bar in the company building. Sakusa had heard rants about Atsumu constantly violating privacy every time he barged into Osamu’s apartment uninvited. “What does Hanamaki-san think?”

“Hanamaki?”

“Y’know. About all this.”

Sakusa rubbed at the stiffness in his shoulders and vaguely remembered texting Hanamaki, _Fuck you, it’s twenty drinks now,_ in a state of delirium last night before going to bed. “I haven’t talked to him yet. But we were planning on getting drinks this weekend.”

“I hope he’s buying for you. God knows you deserve it, picking up on his slack.” Suna kicked up his feet onto his desk and pulled out a pack of gum for his hoodie pocket, offering it to Sakusa. Sakusa shook his head, and Suna pulled out a stick, unfolded it, and popped it in his mouth. “That jackass is probably living it up and having the time of his life right now.”

“I don’t even know where he’s working.”

“Me neither. Or if he’s working.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence as Suna continued clicking away on his computer. “Do you really think Atsumu has a better shot than I do?” Sakusa asked. It wasn’t like he cared or anything. Or if Suna or anyone else’s opinions mattered other than the hiring managers.

But still.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Evenly split between the both of you.”

“That's fair.”

“Word of advice, though?”

Sakusa waited.

“Don’t hate the player,” Suna said with one last shrug. “Hate the game.”

Sakusa snorted as he picked up his laptop. “I’ve gotten pretty good at multitasking, you know. So I can do both.” 

“Well, then. There you go.” Suna lifted his hand in a wave as Sakusa walked out of the conference room. His phone had already been buzzing non stop throughout the meeting, and as he glanced over at the giant clock hanging from the wall, he realized he needed to pick up a lunch before the cafeteria closed.

An alternative option was the stash of instant oatmeal, granola bars, and cup ramen Sakusa kept at his desk. The ramen began sounding more and more appealing as the Sakusa’s stomach gurgled with less and less patience.

But it looked like that would have to wait. Because as Sakusa returned to his desk, he noticed an unsavory presence standing by, scrolling through his phone.

If Sakusa could scream with no context, he’d probably do it. Until his voice ran hoarse.

“Miya.”

Atsumu’s head whipped up. “Omi Omi. There you are.”

Sakusa set his laptop on his desk and plugged it into the external monitor, pretending to stare extra hard at the cable. “Do you mind, Miya? I’m a little busy here.”

Atsumu placed his hands on his hips. Believe it or not, Sakusa noticed Atsumu strolling in a quarter before nine this morning. He’d seen Atsumu make his entrance as late as ten—sometimes even later—several times before. It was hard not to notice the guy who handed out _‘good morning’_ s like a retail sales representative.

“C’mon, Omi Omi. I’ll bet my watch that attitude of yers is startin’ to come back from caffeine withdrawal.” Technically, yes, it was probably caffeine withdrawal, but Sakusa had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with the insufferable blonde than the lack of coffee in his bloodline. “I was gonna make a coffee run to Miya’s Corner. Are you interested?”

Sakusa suppressed his eye roll. He logged into his computer and opened outlook, cursing at the influx of unread emails that seemed to have doubled in the past hour. “Yeah. A black medium roast would be great.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was askin’, didja wanna come with me?”

“I’m busy.”

“Take a break. Yer face looks like you could already use one, and it’s only Tuesday.” Atsumu placed his hands on Sakusa’s desk. Sakusa noticed that he wore a maroon suit today. How many different colored suits did this guy own? Couldn’t he just stick with black or gray, like a normal person? “I’ll treat ya.”

“For some reason,” Sakusa said as he dragged a spam email into the trash, “a treat from you doesn’t sound that enticing.” In reality, it sounded like the opposite—like Sakusa would owe him something. Because with Atsumu, there was no such thing as _favors._

“Aw, c’mon, Omi-kun. Don’t go breakin’ my heart like that.” Atsumu hugged the monitor of Sakusa’s screen and lifted a thick eyebrow. Sakusa sighed and made a mental note to wipe down his monitor later to rid the oil stains from Atsumu’s grubby fingers. “Let’s walk and talk.”

Sakusa internally groaned. He’d already stayed at the office until ten last night working to get through Hanamaki’s logs and invoices. Starting out the week with TV dinners didn’t exactly cut it for him, and instead of falling asleep instantly, Sakusa had spent a couple of hours tossing and turning over all the shit he didn’t get around to doing during the day.

He’d hit snooze twice and prepped his mind to come into office the same way he imagined military men prepared for war: exhausted and proud but ultimately defeated before the fight even began. He couldn’t let the sinking feeling of impending defeat surface, though, especially in front of Atsumu.

“I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“We’ll be back by then.”

“I have to go through emails.”

“Emails will still be there when you get back. I promise.”

“Miya, I don’t know what kind of state your email’s in, but I literally cannot afford to be even a little—”

“For fuck’s sake, Omi Omi, it’s on the first floor of the building, not ten miles and three timezones over. Five minutes.” Atsumu held up his right hand, wiggling his fingers. Then he held up his left hand, two palms facing Sakusa as he batted his eyelashes innocently. “ _Maybe_ ten.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Atsumu nodded eagerly, though Sakusa knew for a fact that Atsumu was notorious for going on detours. _We’ll meetcha in the lobby!_ he’d say to their colleagues, only to wind up in the fourth floor lounge pouring a drink with one of the receptionists. “I got a meetin’, too, so it’s no big deal.”

Sakusa didn’t know how else to politely reject him, and he’d been planning on snagging a second cup of coffee, too. So instead of protesting further, he set his IM status to _Away_ and picked up his ID from where it hung from on the stem of the desk lamp. After flicking off his computer, he said, “I’m only going for the free coffee.”

Atsumu barked a laugh as he adjusted his tie. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from ya, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa followed Atsumu as he trekked out of the office space, turning a few heads. As dimwitted as some of his coworkers were, Sakusa knew they were incredibly gifted in spreading gossip like wildfire. News of internally-nominated candidates for Hanamaki’s previous position had resulted in several instant messages, texts, and even a couple of emails that pestered Sakusa into providing updates. If Sakusa calculated correctly, that meant that everyone else in their office space knew, with a seventy-two-percent chance that other departments knew as well.

Knowing Atsumu’s personality, Sakusa had a feeling that he’d already blabbed about the same way politicians would announce running for office. He could search for sponsorships all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Atsumu had to fend for himself in the job application process—he couldn’t rely on his connections with other coworkers.

Those coworkers of theirs—they probably already started a betting pool about whether or not Atsumu would get the job. It sounded pretty on brand for their company culture (or lack thereof). The real question was whether or not people knew Sakusa was the biggest competitor.

Did _Atsumu_ know Sakusa was his biggest competitor? Maybe, maybe not. For all the bullshit Atsumu dealt out, he had a quick mind that even Sakusa had to give him credit for. Plus, he was inviting him for a coffee run, which never happened.

If Sakusa’s gut was correct, Atsumu was the kind of guy who relied on his gifted instincts, who coasted in college, and who sweet-talked his way into a boosted GPA. It pissed off Sakusa, of course, because anyone that obnoxious in the office didn’t deserve to also be somewhat of an intellectual.

But Atsumu was also incredibly self-absorbed, so maybe Sakusa could find a way to take advantage of that. The promotion was going to be _his,_ and the only thing stronger than Sakusa’s steady work ethic was his amazing aptitude for harboring spite.

“So.” Atsumu fell into step beside Sakusa once they stepped out of the elevator and entered the lobby. Sakusa rarely hung out in the lobby of the twelve-story office building MSBY Consulting resided in. MSBY had their suites on the tenth and eleventh floors, and Sakusa spent most of his time at his desk. The lobby was more like an airport to him, transporting him from his personal life into his professional life. He didn’t want to linger there. Either he was at work or he wasn’t.

Miya’s Corner was a bar nestled in the corner by the wide glass door entrance, serving house roasted coffee by day and drinks so strong it’d send you into next week by night. Sakusa would be lying if he said he never asked the workers to occasionally sneak in a bit of ‘adult syrup’ at the top of his coffee, especially later in the afternoon when his patience began to wear thin.

“So,” Sakusa repeated. He became conscientiously aware of the fact that Atsumu’s shirt probably cost more than Sakusa’s entire outfit combined. Sakusa also became conscientiously aware of the tiniest stain at the hem of his sleeve from cooking oil—the aftermath of a rushed breakfast. Sakusa tugged at his sleeve and opted to fold both of them up to the elbows. 

“Go on ahead, Omi-kun. Get whatever you want.” Atsumu gestured ahead of them, and Sakusa approached the counter. 

“Ah, Sakusa-kun.” Today, the barista was Osamu. The first time he’d grabbed coffee as a new employee, he suffered mental whiplash and _actually_ thought Atsumu was humble enough to work a job in food service before realizing that they were two different people. “What can I get for you today?” Osamu’s typically easygoing, warm smile turned dry when he noticed Atsumu standing behind Sakusa. “Oi, loser. Wadaya want?”

“That’s not a nice way to treat a customer,” Atsumu rebutted.

“Yeah, but you’re not a customer. You’re a pest.” Sakusa stifled a laugh as Atsumu’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, but Osamu waved it off. “Anyway. Sakusa. I dunno why you’re with my brother, but what can I get for ya? The usual?”

Sakusa nodded. He liked Osamu. He had a very calming, straightforward energy that was so unlike the other Miya, the one that literally had no filter. He had no idea how Osamu could stand working in the same building as his brother, even though they were based in completely different industries. “Your brother said he would pay.”

“I don’t remember saying that, actually,” Atsumu said, just because he could.

Osamu snorted. “Tsumu, I don’t believe you for a second, actually.”

Under most circumstances, Atsumu seemed like the kind of guy who’d kick up a big fuss around his brother. Even now, Sakusa could see the clench of Atsumu’s jaw, and the way Atsumu chewed on his lip made it crystal clear that there was a string of words waiting to launch of his tongue. Above all else, Miya Atsumu never knew how to hide his emotions, and Sakusa could read him like a book. And based on what he read, Sakusa was not impressed.

“I’d like a cold brew,” Atsumu said, pulling out his wallet. His watch flashed at Sakusa under the fluorescent lights. He added as an afterthought, “Please.”

“‘Course you do.” Osamu took Atsumu’s card and swiped it. Atsumu waved at him and moved to snag one of the empty tables. Did he expect Sakusa to join him? Sakusa didn’t want to join him. “Give it a few minutes.”

Sakusa glanced around behind the coffee bar. The array of whiskey and rum seemed oddly enticing. “Where’s Ginjima-kun?”

“He’s out for an appointment. He’ll be back later, though.” Osamu shot Sakusa an apologetic look as he ground up coffee beans. “Sorry about my asshole brother.”

Sakusa smiled politely. _It’s fine, because I’m going to get promoted, not him_ was something he wanted to say, but it didn’t seem appropriate. _It’s not fine, because your brother is an asshole_ also seemed inappropriate. Sakusa settled on the response he had crafted from his time in corporate: a polite nod and a small smile as he excused himself.

“ _O-o-o-o-h-mi-kun_ ,” Atsumu dragged out. He must have noticed that Sakusa was waiting by the coffee bar, which was about ten meters away from where he sat. “Come join me.”

 _No._ “The coffee’s almost done.” 

“Can you just…” Atsumu waved emphatically. “Stop the whole broodin’ thing and take a seat with me.”

How the hell was Miya Osamu so much more pleasant in appearance compared to Atsumu, despite being identical twins? He would have much preferred to have Osamu as a coworker over Atsumu. Osamu, who dressed in clean and simple black button downs as he served dirty margaritas and almond milk lattes. Sakusa would’ve gladly chosen Osamu any day of the work week, and maybe even the weekend.

Ever the professional, Sakusa complied, as usual, and moved to take the seat across from him.

Atsumu leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, legs knocking into Sakusa’s. Sakusa quickly tucked his legs to the side and sat up straight, refusing to look away. 

Was this Atsumu’s way of asserting his dominance? Sakusa figured it was. He’d seen plenty of episodes of Animal Planet to know the stupid games Atsumu was attempting here. If Atsumu had feathers, he’d have spread them by now.

Sakusa, though, didn’t need to rely on those kinds of tactics. “Can I help you?” Sakusa finally broke the silence, trying to cut back on the biting tone he so desperately wanted to unleash.

“You’re an interestin’ one, Omi Omi.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I reckon that the reason you went to see Meian yesterday was cuz of Makki-kun’s position bein’ open for contenders, right?” Sakusa’s mouth twitched. “Oh, don’t gimme that look. You and I both know that there are only two people even close enough to being qualified for that job.”

Yeah, there were, but there was only _one_ person who deserved it. And that person, Sakusa knew, was himself.

“I wasn’t aware that it was time to have a heart-to-heart,” Sakusa said. He checked his watch. It had only been two minutes since the last time he checked it. Did the coffee usually take this long? Was Osamu purposely taking his sweet fucking time? 

Atsumu’s eyes glinted under the lights, and Sakusa’s skin crawled. Luckily, it was broken by Osamu calling out, “Order up,” and Sakusa had an excuse to stand.

“Get mine for me, will ya?” Atsumu said behind him, and Sakusa wanted, nothing more, than to dump the entire cold brew on Atsumu’s outrageously tight trousers.

Sakusa picked up both cups and returned to the table. He placed Atsumu’s order in front of him, but made no move to sit.

Atsumu clasped his hands together and lifted an eyebrow, chin raised to the empty seat. “Sit.”

“I’m not a fucking dog.”

“Yeah, but you bark louder than a bite.”

“I don’t have time to be socializing, Miya. I have—”

“Yeah, yeah, yer emails, yer job, blah blah blah. But guess what, Omi-kun. The job will be there when you get back. So why don’tcha say we have a couple minutes of man-to-man, coworker-to-coworker, rival-to-rival talk here.” Atsumu placed his elbows on the table and took a long sip from his coffee. He looked back up at Sakusa, and Sakusa recognized right away that this was some sort of juvenile challenge.

_You’re not gonna sit down with me, are ya?_

_You’re too good for this, ain't ya?_

Because Sakusa knew Atsumu talked shit about him in the office. To be fair, everyone talked shit about each other. Sakusa couldn’t keep track of the number of times he’d hear someone bitching about a coworker, only to, minutes later, greet them with wide smiles as they walked into a conference room. He tried to stay away from it, but even _he_ had grown prone to bitching, too, though it was mostly to Komori, or to his friends from university or previous workplaces.

In the case of Miya Atsumu, though, Sakusa had heard plenty about how Atsumu bitched that Sakusa took everything too seriously. Apparently, taking a job seriously was a crime these days, at least in Atsumu’s mind. Most of this had been relayed to Sakusa through other coworkers. It usually didn’t bother Sakusa, since shit talk was pretty much a given in any company, but it wasn’t even valid shit talk. All of Atsumu’s commentary was invalid and uncalled for.

_Didja know Omi Omi doesn’t take vacations? How masochistic is that?_

_Can’t believe kiss-ass-Omi-kun is workin’ overtime again. Ain’t he such a fuckin’ try hard?_

_He’s skippin’ happy hour? Fuckin’ lame. He prolly thinks he’s better than us._

Sakusa never considered himself to be antisocial—more reserved than outgoing, sure, and more impatient than tolerant of bullshit, definitely. More importantly, he never, in his life, considered himself to be special. That was the most fatal flaw he could have possessed. Part of what he took pride in, ironically, was his cynical realism and humility. Sakusa knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He knew humility was not a weakness, nor did it betray his justified self-confidence. 

When someone like Atsumu—who knew nothing except how to wreak havoc at company parties—reduced Sakusa to a hollow caricature, it felt incredibly insulting.

To disprove Atsumu’s point, Sakusa sat in the chair, dropping all professional and polite pretense. Sakusa supposed they’d already been way past that, ever since the first time Atsumu jokingly suggested to Sakusa that he should’ve sucked the dick of one of his problematic clients. “Just get to the point, Miya. I don’t have all day.”

“All work and no play, ain’t ya? Alrighty then.” Atsumu tapped his fingers along the surface of the table and traced his fingertips through the condensation ring forming beneath his cup. The black studs in his lobes, it seemed, were a constant, and Sakusa hated that it actually looked kind of good paired with the color of his suit. It looked stupid. Atsumu looked stupid. “I’m only gonna say this once. I’m getting that job.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. He’d expected as much. This was, in all sense of the term, an intimidation tactic. Miya Atsumu wouldn’t be Miya Atsumu if he didn’t try that method at least once. “Am I supposed to be afraid?”

“I don’t care about yer feelings. This isn’t a threat. It’s a declaration. I ain’t just givin’ it to you because you want it.”

“Who said I want it?”

“Please.” Atsumu waved him off, which riled up a flare of irritation under Sakusa’s skin. Talk about presumptuous. “You know you want it. I know you want it. And anyone can spot yer attitude from a million miles away—that you’re dyin’ to snatch a promotion from lowly specialist to high ’n mighty manager.”

 _Do not engage,_ Sakusa told himself. Because that was exactly what Atsumu wanted—for Sakusa to take part in his petty feuds.

Sakusa, of course, couldn’t resist engaging. “I didn’t realize doing my job well constituted as attitude.” 

“I ain’t gonna tell you how to do yer job, but maybe throw less stink eyes at people around you while you’re at it.” Atsumu smirked in a way that screamed, _I know everythin’ in the world and you’re dumber than me._ “That’s not the point though. I just wanted to warn you that I ain’t givin’ it up without a fight.”

“Good for you.” Sakusa put all his energy into keeping his voice as level and as monotonous as possible. He sipped his coffee, relishing in the flavor, but it fell flat given the current predicament he was stuck in. What he’d give to be back at his desk, sorting through emails, and preparing for the rest of one hell of a week. “Is that all?”

“That’s all you got to say?”

“I wasn’t aware that your monologue had space for another person to speak.”

“Hah. Funny.” Atsumu’s voice tightened in a way that made it clear it definitely was _not_ funny. “Since when didja have a sense of humor, Omi Omi?”

“I’ve always had a sense of humor.” Sakusa stared, flat and unimpressed, across the table at Atsumu. “I just know how to use it well.”

Atsumu’s eyes narrowed. “Hm. Well. Okay then. You’re sure you wanna take a stab at it? Might be easier for you to walk away now.” The smile ran cold on Atsumu’s face. He got like that sometimes, and Sakusa figured it was probably a quirk of his when he realized that he was treading the line of ‘acceptable’ and ‘in deep shit.’

“With all due respect, Miya, I have no intention of walking away from a fight that I’m destined to come out on top.”

The smile dropped from Atsumu’s face instantly.

Sakusa would be lying if he’d said it didn’t give him a deep sense of satisfaction.

“You’re soundin’ pretty confident.”

“I don’t talk out of my ass. You and I both know that.” Unlike Atsumu, who was all ass, all talk, and very little action. “I’m not telling you to walk away from the promotion, either. I’ll willingly do everything I can to prove that I deserve it.” Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “Because I do.”

Okay, maybe he didn’t have humility, and maybe he had a bit of an egotistical streak, too. Because right now, with Atsumu finally looking as irritated as Sakusa felt, Sakusa wanted to reward himself with an expensive bottle of Pinot and a hot one-night-stand.

“That’s prolly the most I’ve ever heard you speak before in one sitting,” Atsumu said, but his voice lacked the easygoing flow it usually had. Sakusa couldn’t help it—his lips curled up in the smallest of grins and, judging by the scowl etched across Atsumu’s face, he noticed it, too. “Nice to see you actually got some sort of flavor in that cardboard personality of yers.”

“I’d hardly call my mild-mannered personality ‘cardboard.’” Sakusa crossed his arms and adjusted himself in his chair. “Is that the reason why you decided to buy me a coffee? To entice me to walk away?”

“No. Consider it a gentleman’s warning.” Atsumu stood up first. He swept back his hair, and Sakusa had to pointedly look away from his arms—because Atsumu wasn’t built like an office worker. His shoulders were broad, his face rogue-ish and strong-featured, and he had quads like tree stumps. 

Atsumu was, objectively, a good-looking guy, so much so that he had people turning to chase him down the street with their gazes. Rumor at the office had it that Atsumu had been offered a modeling contract back in college but turned it down to focus on his studies. Based on Atsumu’s tales of his epic college days, Sakusa had to wonder if he and Atsumu had the same definition of ‘studying’.

The first time Sakusa had seen Atsumu, of course, was when Sakusa first started at the company, nearly a year ago now. The curve of Atsumu’s muscles straining against the fabric of his pants had left Sakusa flustered and especially quiet as he introduced himself to the team. Because Sakusa was human, of course, and a relatively normal one at that—he had feelings, too. For better or for worse.

That tongue-tied, deer-in-headlights feeling quickly evaporated the moment Atsumu opened his mouth. Nothing about Atsumu was attractive—not anymore. 

Ah, well, he could still admire, though. Even if half of it was done out of disgust and criticality towards Atsumu’s egotistic manner of dressing and acting. Sakusa, though taller than Atsumu by a few centimeters, didn’t have that same thick presence Atsumu carried. “You’re not gonna give up, that’s fine. But I ain’t givin’ up either.”

“Good luck with that, then. Because only one person can get promoted.”

Atsumu snorted. Sakusa tried not to let himself get too carried away with the satisfaction of giving Atsumu a taste of his own medicine. “Y’know, for a quiet guy, you sure got the knack for pissin’ people off.”

“That’s grand, coming from you.”

Sakusa pushed his chair back. He didn’t have to try hard to say anything that could’ve been categorized as a provocation, but by the way he stood with his shoulders tightened and his fists clenched, Sakusa knew that Atsumu was, effectively, provoked. He looked away and made a run for the elevators. “Thanks for the coffee, Miya.”

He half expected Atsumu to follow—after all, the only way they had to go was up to their offices—but he didn’t. Sakusa guessed Atsumu would seethe in rage for a few minutes before going back upstairs. Maybe even vent a few empty words into Osamu’s ear.

When Sakusa reached back to his desk, he set the still-steaming coffee to the side as he stretched out his shoulders. He unlocked his computer and glanced at the time. It _was_ under ten minutes, which was surprising, but ten minutes was precious in the work day, and Sakusa would never forgive Atsumu for taking away something he could never give back.

He had several unread emails, but the newest one caught his attention. Sakusa clicked on it and had to try damn near his hardest to avoid erupting in a fit of humorless laughter.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Good luck.
> 
> Dear Omi Omi,
> 
> All’s fair in love, war, and office promotions.
> 
> I wish you the best of luck.
> 
> Best,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Good luck.
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I don’t need luck.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi


	3. the one with the owed drinks

Sakusa’s shit week started with a problem, so it was only right that it ended with a problem. That problem, of course, was an email he received at approximately six in the evening on Friday, right as he stepped out of the office building and onto the busy sidewalk of Tokyo. A signature _ding!_ threatened to drag Sakusa back into the office.

Against his better judgment, Sakusa clicked the notification.

* * *

> **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Hi Miya and Sakusa,
> 
> Per Meian-san, the upcoming contract with Aoba Johsai Ltd, doing business as Seijoh Ltd., has not yet been fully executed. This has allowed us to negotiate the terms of the contract to allow you two to take on the work that Hanamaki was originally assigned to.
> 
> Please see attached work order for specific details. Seijoh has requested an execution target date of 14 February, so we’re hoping to finalize this by 07 February.
> 
> If this sounds agreeable to you, please send over a signed copy of your CVs and your three most recent reports ASAP so Seijoh’s team may review your experience. They may request a quick phone call with each of you, but they have assured me that this will be expedited to accommodate the quick contract turnaround.
> 
> Have a great weekend!
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Inunaki Shion

* * *

Sakusa felt the onset of a stress-migraine mounting against the back of his eyeballs.

He’d been told he’d be taking on Hanamaki’s upcoming contract—not that he’d be working alongside Atsumu for it. Knowing Meian, he purposefully omitted this crucial information despite the constant emails bouncing from inbox to inbox about updates regarding the Seijoh contract. Why, Sakusa had no idea. Apparently, having to deal with Atsumu on a daily basis wasn’t enough.

If Sakusa took this on, he’d have to cope with Atsumu’s infuriating attitude on an _hourly_ basis. He’d never worked on a project with Atsumu before, save for the surprise engagement celebration they threw when Meian announced that he had proposed. And it wasn’t like Sakusa even contributed anything substantial. His contribution had been limited to turning on the lights when Meian walked in before grabbing his laptop and moving to a quiet conference room.

Sakusa had a lot of words in mind for Inunaki—the loudest one being a big fat _N-O_ —but he swallowed it down, stuffed his phone in his coat pocket, and boarded the bus to meet up with Hanamaki at a bar.

Sakusa leaned against the railing as tires peeled away from the curb. He was shit out of luck. The days and nights blurred together, leaving Sakusa in a daze of panicked emails and run-on sentences in reports. There was a disturbing trend where it became increasingly difficult for Sakusa to shake himself out of work-mode and into—well, anything except work-mode.

Part of the reason he wanted to meet up with Hanamaki on Friday was because, in some ways, Sakusa needed Hanamaki’s aggressive no-work-only-play mode to jerk him out of the impending doom of deadlines. It had become one of Sakusa’s fatal flaws: the inability to disconnect from work. Hanamaki’s fatal flaw was probably the opposite.

Hanamaki was a pain-in-the-ass coworker, but Sakusa credited him as part of the reason why he had survived his first year at MSBY. Much of that could be seen the moment Sakusa walked into the crowded bar and immediately spotted Hanamaki slouched over the bar counter as he nursed an empty glass.

“I see your penchant for premature drinking hasn’t changed in the past week,” Sakusa quipped as he approached Hanamaki from behind. 

Hanamaki whipped around with the broadest smile and a flush across his cheeks. “Hey! You made it.”

Sakusa tugged his messenger bag to his front, settling it on his lap as he plopped into the barstool next to Hanamaki. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s no big deal. I got us some tamagoyaki.”

Sakusa frowned at the single bite left on the tiny platter.

“Okay, well, I got it for us, but then I got hungry, so I ate it. But I ordered some yakitori from the kitchen, alright? Stop giving me the fucking stink eye, Kiyoomi.”

“I’m not eating that.”

“I saved that just for you!”

“I don’t want your leftovers. Order me my own.”

Hanamaki picked up his chopsticks and gave Sakusa a salute. “Yes, boss.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile dancing at his lips. Hanamaki referring to Sakusa as ‘boss’ sort of happened by accident. He couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment when he started doing that; for as long as Sakusa and Hanamaki sat at desks next to each other, it seemed like their dynamic was destined to be this way: the overworked, perpetually distressed junior who frequently accompanied the easygoing, coasting manager.

He’d never reported to Hanamaki directly despite supporting a number of projects Hanamaki had taken on. Hanamaki looked laidback, as usual. Although it had only been a week since he last saw Hanamaki dozing off at his desk, it felt longer. Hanamaki’s brown hair was swept back, unlike the usual gelled look he sported to the MSBY office. He wore a fleece jacket, and under it, a t-shirt for some anime Sakusa had never watched before. It strongly contrasted Sakusa’s business casual appearance, but then again, most things did. 

Sakusa opened his mouth to say something, but Hanamaki held up a finger, effectively cutting him off. “Wait. Okay. I know you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You literally texted me ‘Fuck you’, like, thirty times this week.”

Sakusa lifted a hand to wave down the bartender. “You’re over-exaggerating.”

“Don’t make me pull up the receipts, because I definitely have them.” Hanamaki laughed as the bartender walked over. He nudged Sakusa with his elbow and gave Sakusa an encouraging smile. “Order whatever you like. I really do owe you one.”

“You owe me ten.”

“Ten, except not all tonight, because judging by the state of your appearance, Kiyoomi, one might be enough to send you into a blissful oblivion.”

Sakusa snorted. Hanamaki wasn’t wrong. But a blissful oblivion wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe then Sakusa would finally get a good night’s sleep.

Sakusa pulled out his phone once more as Hanamaki rattled off his order. It was reflexive, at this point, although Sakusa knew it wasn’t healthy. If there was a silent moment, or if he had even half a minute to kill, Sakusa would check his phone. Maybe he’d been conditioned by late-night phone calls and even later-night emails. Half the time his email app was already clicked open before he realized what was even happening.

“Are you fucking for real, dude? Put it _away._ ” Hanamaki reached over and clicked Sakusa’s phone off with a jab of his fingers and shook his head. His narrow mouth came closed in an even narrower line. “It’s Friday, you dumb bitch. No more work.”

Sakusa shoved his phone into his bag, feeling a little embarrassed. This was typical Hanamaki behavior, always chastising him even if it was wholly unnecessary. “I got an email from Inunaki right as I left the office.”

“I don’t care.”

“It was about—”

“Stop making excuses. You’re clocked out. Leave it.” Hanamaki rested his elbows on the counter as his eyes traced the movements of the bartender assembling their drinks. “I take it that not much has changed in the past week I’ve been out, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? You left all your work unfinished.”

Hanamaki tore his gaze away from behind the bar and looked, hard and long, at Sakusa. He blinked, once, twice, and it dawned on Sakusa that the bastard had completely forgotten about the shitstorm he left behind. Typical. “Oh, yeah. I’m genuinely sorry about that.”

“You’d better be. I’m left cleaning up your mess.” As much as Sakusa wanted to be pissed, having Hanamaki seated next to him made it difficult for him to feel that way. Something about Hanamaki always ripped anxiety and stress from Sakusa’s mind, even if it was just for a little while. Perhaps part of it was because Hanamaki mitigated that with grunge-y late night bar food and cheap drinks. More likely, though, that was just part of Hanamaki’s personality—he laughed before he got mad, and he shrugged things off instead of letting them build up in frustration. By all logic and reason, this meant that Sakusa _shouldn’t_ have gotten along with Hanamaki at all, but Hanamaki surprised him.

It was different from the way Atsumu spoke to Sakusa about ‘taking it easy.’ Underneath his quirky and lazy exterior, Hanamaki genuinely possessed a good heart, one that sought out the best of Sakusa’s interests in earnest. He’d been the one, Sakusa learned, who vouched for his pay raise and generous bonus at the end of last year. He was always the one to defend Sakusa’s out-of-control work hours every time a coworker would say something bitchy about it. And, at the end of the day, Hanamaki had helped Sakusa adjust as best as he could to MSBY’s office, treating him to lunches, and going so far as to offering him dating advice (even though Sakusa hadn’t really wanted it). 

Sure—as a coworker, Hanamaki wasn’t the greatest, but Sakusa had come to value him as a friend.

“Eh, it’s nothing you can’t handle. What, Meian can’t get some other lowly associate to do it?”

“No.”

“Classic. What about Tsukishima or Hinata?”

“I think Tsukishima’s been busy with helping Ubugawa’s merger. And Hinata…” Sakusa’s voice trailed off, but luckily, he didn’t need to complete the sentence, because Hanamaki was nodding. “Forget that, Hanamaki. Why didn’t you give your two weeks?”

“You read my email, didn’t you? I forgot to.”

“Stop playing me for a fool. I don’t believe for a second that you forgot to send in your two weeks’ notice of quitting your job, so don’t try to pull that bullshit with me.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Sakusa gave Hanamaki a flat look, and Hanamaki burst out laughing right as the bartender brought _way_ more than Sakusa had anticipated—Sakusa had ordered twelve-year bourbon on the rocks; the bartender came back with the bourbon, two shots of suspiciously clear liquid, and two shot of suspiciously not-clear liquid.

“Hanamaki.” Sakusa frowned. “What the fuck is this?”

“I owe you, right? I should’ve at least told you that I was leaving so I could mentally prepare you for the workload that would’ve been dumped onto you. I take full responsibility for being a dick and leaving you around to drown in all my shit left behind.” Hanamaki reached for the clear shot first and lifted his chin in Sakusa’s direction. “This is the house special. You can’t get it unless you ask for it.”

“What is it?” Sakusa picked it up. Hanamaki was notorious at MSBY for bringing the most atrocious booze to holiday parties, happy hours, and on the occasional-slash-frequent Friday that he felt like fucking around in the office. 

“Some old Chinese liquor that’s distilled in-house. That’s all you need to know.” Hanamaki lifted his drink in the air. He stuck his tongue out in an enthusiastic smile as he said, “You’re a real one, Kiyoomi. I owe you.”

Sakusa tipped his head back and downed the shot as fast as possible, but it did little to assuage the burning sensation that filled his throat and elicited tears to form at the corners of his eyes. He suppressed a cough as his stomach flipped in preemptive rejection of the foreign liquid. “That’s fucking terrible.”

“I know. It’s disgusting. I love it.” Hanamaki dropped his empty shot glass into Sakusa’s and reached for the half-empty glass of water perched in front of him. Sakusa, for the first time since leaving the office, conscientiously relaxed his shoulders. 

“So where the hell are you working now?”

Hanamaki grabbed the edge of the bar counter and leaned back, balancing on the two hind legs of the chair. Sakusa hated when he did that—he always felt like one day Hanamaki would make the wrong move and go crashing into the floor. It was a disaster begging to happen. “I got a job at Seijoh.”

Sakusa stared.

“What?”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“How are you even in Tokyo right now? Isn’t Seijoh based in Miyagi?”

“I left work early today to pick up some of my stuff from my apartment. My roommate here has been on my ass about it.” Hanamaki smiled sheepishly. “I’m staying the night, though, at my old apartment.”

Sakusa rubbed at his temple, wondering if it was possible for someone to suffer from mental whiplash from unexpected news. He reached for the second shot Hanamaki had ordered and downed it before Hanamaki even had the chance to pick his up. “Hanamaki, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to accept employment with a client associated with MSBY. You could be sued by the company.”

“On the contrary.” Hanamaki held up a finger and Sakusa had to make a considerable effort not to break his finger in two. “I looked at my contract. The non-competitive clause only applied if you signed a contract with the client.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I mean, I _was_ sure, but now you’re looking at me and making me less sure of myself. So thanks for that. Now I’m gonna lose sleep over nightmares about getting sued by Meian.” Hanamaki tossed back his drink. It pretty much summed up the extent of their dynamic throughout their year as coworkers, and for the first time since Monday, Sakusa allowed himself to feel a twinge of nostalgia for losing out on it. Contrary to what most people in the office liked to believe, Sakusa knew how to get along with people—even ridiculous jackasses like Hanamaki—though it was often begrudging and hard-earned. “It’s not like I’ll be working on the same team, though—I got hired in internal affairs, so unfortunately I wouldn’t be working with you. But if you’re ever in the building, I’ll get you lunch.”

Knowing Hanamaki would be around during his trip to Seijoh was just enough to soften the dread that came with said trip. “Your email _was_ pretty funny.”

“Hah! Wasn’t it?” Hanamaki barked a laugh. “I’m not gonna lie. I wrote the entire thing while taking a shit.”

“I just can’t believe you sent your resignation email to the _entire_ fucking office.”

“I kind of copied the entire employee listing by accident.”

“How do you _accidentally_ copy the entire office?”

“I don’t know. I think I was trying to copy just, like, Inunaki. Then I panicked and then by the time I hit send, it was too late. Even if I recalled it, at least a few people would have opened it.”

Sakusa huffed an incredulous laugh, because although the visual of Hanamaki on the toilet while he panicked about accidentally sending his resignation email was crude and unnecessary, it was also kind of funny, too. He picked up his drink, swirled it around a couple of times, and took a deep sip, stopping himself before he had time to drain almost half the damn thing.

Hanamaki watched with curious eyes. Despite his jackass persona, he was always observant and thoughtful, always reading people around him. It was one of the reasons why Sakusa could put up with his remarks. Hanamaki didn’t take it too far. “That shitty, huh?” he said, no further elaboration necessary.

Sakusa sighed. He leaned his elbow on the counter and propped up his chin. “Your position’s open. The manager one.”

“Ah, yeah. I figured that’d be the case. Has the listing gone live yet on job boards?”

“No, not even on the HR portal. It’s open to candidates who are internally nominated only for now.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Who’s nominated?”

Sakusa looked at Hanamaki pointedly.

“Holy fuck.” Hanamaki’s face broke out into a wide grin as he grabbed Sakusa’s shoulder to shake him excitedly. “Dude! That’s awesome. Congrats. I feel less bad about dipping out now. I’m the best senpai ever, aren’t I? It’s because I left that there’s room for you to grow, Kiyoomi, so I guess in that case, _you_ should be the one buying _me_ a drink.”

Sakusa snorted as Hanamaki tapped his glass against his. The bartender returned with small platters of yakitori _,_ with extra tsukune, Sakusa’s favorite. Sakusa pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his bag and squeezed some on the palm of his hand before offering it to Hanamaki, who accepted. “Seriously, though. That’s awesome and well deserved. If they went with anyone else, I’d probably rage quit.”

“You already have.”

“I mean, if I were you. You know what? They should honestly just promote you without having to do an interview process. Fuck that. It’s a waste of time, and you’re already going to be picking up on my work anyway, right?”

“Well, I’m not guaranteed it.” Unfortunately. “There’s one other candidate.”

“Only one? That’s surprising. Who is it?”

“It’s Miya.” The word tasted sour in Sakusa’s mouth. 

“Oh. Atsumu, huh…” Hanamaki picked up a skewer of meat and twirled it between his fingertips. “The choice makes sense.”

“You think so?”

“I dunno.” Hanamaki bit off half a skewer’s worth of meat and chewed as he thought more about it. Sakusa waited and picked up a skewer himself. He knew Hanamaki would take his side in a heartbeat—even if there technically weren’t any sides here—because that was the kind of guy Hanamaki was. 

Hanamaki swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Atsumu isn’t my favorite guy in the office, but Meian loves him. So does Barnes.”

“I’m aware.”

“And Meian and Barnes both like you, sure, but it’s a different kind of like. They respect you and value you. I’m sure they respect and value Atsumu, too, but he’s…” Hanamaki waved a hand and gestured vaguely, grasping at the words. His face contorted as he struggled to find the right descriptor.

“A kiss ass,” Sakusa supplied.

“Eh, you could call it that. The best way to describe it is, like, Meian and Barnes and all the other directors think you’re a good asset to any team. You’re useful. But they see Atsumu as a friend. You know?”

Yeah, Sakusa did know. It was often Atsumu who egged the upper management on to take shots of tequila at the close of a business day. It was Atsumu who took it on himself to help plan department bonding activities. It was Atsumu who sent everyone holiday gifts—last year it had been a box of cookies from a fancy bakery down the street. 

It was always, _always_ Atsumu.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, though. You already picked up on my slack before Meian even realized I was leaving.”

“But they don’t know that,” Sakusa pointed out. In the year they worked together, Sakusa learned more about just how little Hanamaki did in the office, but for some reason, it had never occurred to him to snitch. He’d returned the same loyalty Hanamaki offered him, though there were times when he was tempted to report it to management. 

“I could write another email to the whole office,” Hanamaki offered. “I’ll light a fire under my own ass and reputation and let them know you’re too good of an asset to pass up.”

Sakusa slowly dragged his glass in circles on the wooden counter, watching as drops of condensation collected. It definitely would have given him a leg up against Atsumu, but he wasn’t interested in dirty tactics at all. If he was going to lose this, he’d lose fairly. He’d congratulate Atsumu, then start looking for another job elsewhere.

“No, thanks. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Sakusa drained his drink and his hand to flag down the bartender yet again. “So tell me about Seijoh,” he said.

Hanamaki’s eyes lit up as he began rambling, and, just for a moment, Sakusa allowed himself to feel the slightest twinge of envy.

* * *

Sakusa woke up the next morning blinking at the light shining through the window and cursing at how every breath he took through his parched throat felt inhaling an ice pick. He untangled himself from his bedsheets, shivering when his bare skin emerged from the pile of blankets. Last night, Sakusa had the mind to undress himself, but apparently, he hadn’t had the awareness to put on pajamas, so he was annoyed to find himself wearing only a pair of underwear.

Sakusa stumbled out of his bedroom toward the kitchen. His apartment, though small, was tidy and minimalist, just as Sakusa preferred. He lived in a high rise close enough to the bus stop and metro stations that made coming home after a drunken night at the bar feasible. Sakusa sighed when he noticed his clothes and bag strewn about on the ground, reminding himself to pick it up later. His house keys were nowhere in sight, but they had to be somewhere in the apartment, since he managed to get inside last night.

After chugging a glass of water (that did little to assuage the growing pain that bloomed on the left side of his temple), Sakusa refilled the cup and returned to bed, setting the water on his nightstand.

Somehow, Hanamaki and he had kept drinking, far more than Sakusa expected. That frequently happened. It was almost like Sakusa’s subconscious needed someone to give him permission to let loose, and for the past year, that person had been Hanamaki. He wondered if he’d find another person like that for him at the office.

Sakusa stretched out his shoulders and rolled his neck a couple of times before reaching for a stray t-shirt and pulling it on, collapsing back into bed with a thud. He picked up his phone to check the time—just past seven. Sakusa groaned and burrowed himself back under the sheets, regretting last night’s shenanigans that manifested itself in an unpleasant hangover and the lingering taste of stale bourbon on his tongue.

At least today was Saturday. Which meant—well, it meant that he still had to review some of the reports he’d barely made a dent in the past week. But at least he didn’t have any meetings or annoying coworkers to bother him.

Sakusa noticed an email notification marked _Urgent_ , so of course he clicked it.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> Didn’t realize you were servicing this client, too.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

Atsumu had sent it at midnight last night. Right. Sakusa vaguely recalled seeing the notification pop up and wanting to throw his phone against the wall, but he was drunk enough that he merely shouted, “Fuck you, Atsumu,” over the clamoring music and conversation at the bar. It had been incredibly amusing, for some reason, and had taken Hanamaki and Sakusa several minutes to collect themselves after being thrown into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

It wasn’t unusual for office workers to send emails late into the night, especially for private consulting firms like MSBY. It was, however, unusual for late night emails to be sent on a Friday—and more unusual, still, for them to come from Miya Atsumu. He wondered if Atsumu had been at a bar, too, a little too tipsy to house good judgment in that infuriating mind of his.

Sakusa rolled onto his back and typed a response.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I could say the same about you.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

Sakusa had some sort of perverse feeling of satisfaction that came with passive aggressive emails. He blamed the constant back-and-forth that came with endless email chains, usually because someone was too stubborn to compromise and step down from their opinion. Sakusa had, on more than occasion, been the one to step down, but not without making it clear that he didn’t want to.

People like Atsumu, they never compromised. They preferred persuasion and persistence over compromise; that much was clear.

Surprisingly, Sakusa’s phone pinged no more than two minutes later, right as his mind had begun to drift back to sleep.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> So are you gonna send your CV/reports or what?
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

Sakusa bit down the urge to respond with something equally as snarky. In all honesty, he’d been planning on submitting it as soon as he got home last night, but he’d been too drunk to remember and, even if he _did_ remember, he was too drunk to have sent anything coherent. 

It dawned on him, though, that Atsumu hadn’t sent it either.

What game was he playing?

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I wasn’t aware that my CV or my reports were any of your business.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **CC:** Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Good morning Inunaki-san!
> 
> Please see attached for PDFs of my signed CV and last three reports, as requested. Let me know if there’s anything else Seijoh needs, and I’ll be more than happy to send it right over.
> 
> Hope you’re having a wonderful weekend, and see you Monday!
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Omi,
> 
> Your turn.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

What a fucking brown noser.

Sakusa stuffed his face into his pillow. If he had the energy, he’d participate in petty virtual-office battles with him, but his head still hurt and he wanted to sleep for about ten more hours. 

Atsumu was probably trying to one-up him. Yeah, that’s what it was. He was lucky that Sakusa had decided to go out with Hanamaki yesterday instead of chippin away at his to-do list. 

Instead of responding to Atsumu’s email or sending over his CV—which was outrageously outdated since the last time Sakusa revised it was for his application to MSBY—Sakusa curiously clicked on Atsumu’s CV to see what kind of background his rival boasted of. He’d already seen Atsumu’s company bio on the website and his LinkedIn profile, but nothing was nearly as detailed as an actual curriculum vitae.

When Sakusa opened Atsumu’s CV, his eyes rolled back so far into his skull he swore he could see his brain. Atsumu, who was only a few months older than Sakusa, who graduated from university the same year as Sakusa, had the same amount of experience, but his CV was four pages compared to Sakusa’s two.

How much did this guy talk about himself? Seriously? Sakusa took a quick break to shoot a text message to Komori to ask him if he had time to quickly review his CV later that day. His CV wasn’t terrible aside from being horribly outdated, but it definitely needed extra fluff to stand a chance in shallow competition with Atsumu’s. After a moment’s hesitation, Sakusa forwarded Atsumu’s CV over to Komori, to give him a good idea about what he was dealing with.

He returned back to Atsumu’s document with a swipe of his fingers, and immediately saw a detail he’d missed during his first perusal: Atsumu’s title listed for his current role was _Senior Specialist II._

Sakusa frowned. His current title was listed on the company website and under HR’s employee listing as _Senior Specialist I._ When did Atsumu get bumped up to _Senior Specialist II?_

Sakusa angrily clicked off his phone and forced himself out of bed. As was his custom, he reorganized his pillows and shook out the comforter before neatly laying it out flat. He drained the rest of his water and re-opened his mental checklist that he’d recklessly abandoned last night to drink with Hanamaki. Hangover or no hangover, he had to buff up his CV enough so that he didn’t look pathetic when compared to Atsumu, and to do that, he needed a cup of coffee, some carbs, and two Tylenol to get rid of this fucking headache.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **CC:** Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com> , Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Good afternoon Inunaki-san,
> 
> As requested, here is my signed CV and most three recent reports. Please let me know if you need anything else.
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Omi,
> 
> You’re dry as a desert, you know that?
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Dear Miya and Sakusa,
> 
> Thanks for sending those over so fast! I forwarded over the materials to Seijoh’s team and they responded requesting a conference call with both of you on Monday. I’ve sent a calendar invite and booked conference room 10E.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Inunaki

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Pre-Contract Information Request
> 
> Well, see you Monday, I guess.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

Sakusa, once again, ignored Atsumu. He spent the remainder of the day tidying up his apartment, doing laundry, and pulling out food in the fridge that were a smidge too old to be considered safe for consumption. The details of Atsumu’s CV were burned in his mind, and part of Sakusa was afraid to take a look at Atsumu’s reports—because, yeah, like Hanamaki said, Atsumu was someone upper management liked _as a friend_ , which was different from _as a colleague._ But Atsumu was fully capable as a worker, too.

Sakusa had the distinct, sinking feeling that this would be harder than he thought. Yet despite the concerns that had begun brewing under the surface, and despite the odds that weighed in Atsumu’s favor, part of him was excited, too—he couldn’t wait to crush that narcissistic fucker once and for all.


	4. the one with the new assignment

When Sakusa strolled into conference room 10E precisely five minutes before the scheduled call with Seijoh, Atsumu was already there, typing away on his computer. “Mornin’, Omi-kun,” he said without so much as glancing up.

Sakusa pulled out the chair across from him and set his bag beside him before finishing off the rest of his coffee. The quick bursts of typing followed by Atsumu’s eyes tracking his screen suggested that he was IM-ing someone. Sakusa didn’t think Atsumu was capable of going more than one hour in the work day without utilizing the instant messaging feature. “Good morning,” he said, trying but failing to sound polite.

“You look tired.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just sayin’. It’s a little early to be gettin’ tired, don’tcha think, Omi Omi?”

Considering Sakusa had slept a total of four hours last night, no, it was  _ not _ too early to be getting tired. Sakusa grunted in response and plugged in his laptop, pulling out his company phone to open the meeting invite. Sakusa had never worked with Seijoh before, although he knew that Seijoh’s external affairs department had a longstanding history with MSBY. He’d heard rumors about the company, about how a majority of its workforce tended to be chaotic twenty-somethings who often required quite a bit of handholding. Which made it the exact opposite of the kind of company Sakusa preferred to deal with.

“Didja have a good weekend?” Atsumu asked. He leaned back in his seat and raised an eyebrow. 

“It was fine,” Sakusa quipped. Four emails arrived into his inbox all at once.

“Do anythin’ special?”

“No.”

Atsumu pursed his lips. He didn’t look annoyed, although he certainly had an expression of befuddlement on him. This quickly disappeared when he dressed himself in his smug grin. Today’s color: dark, emerald green.

Sakusa glanced down at his turtleneck sweater, also black. There was a layer of fuzzy balls that enveloped the sleeves. He sighed and rummaged through his bag for his spare lint roller—he knew he forgot to do  _ something _ on his checklist this morning.

“I took a look at yer CV,” Atsumu said, nonchalantly. Sakusa pointedly refused to look at him as he ripped off the outermost layer of his lint roller, rubbing it in furious strokes across his arms and torso. 

“Hopefully that was excellent reading material for you on the commute.”

“Hah. I can’t read and drive, Omi-kun.” Right. Atsumu drove to work, because he was one of those bastards fearless enough to brave the wild streets of Tokyo. “I’m impressed. You seem to have a lot of experience under yer belt.” Sakusa almost rolled his eyes. Of course he did—he worked almost twice as much as the average person, which allowed him to gain twice as much experience in the same amount of time. “You really are my true competitor, huh? You’re, like, my ultimate challenger.”

“I would hope so. If we’re competing for the same promotion.”

“Didja peruse my CV by any chance?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and reached over to the landline phone, glancing at his screen to punch in the dial-in number. “Then you must not know me very well, Miya.”

“On the contrary, you’re easy to read.” Atsumu snorted as he fixed the collar of his suit jacket and adjusted a couple stray tufts of hair that threatened to become undone. “I know you’re the cautious type that would check out competition as soon as you get the chance.”

Sakusa punched in the meeting code, wanting nothing more than for Atsumu to shut up and stop messing around with his appearance. He made no effort to assist as Sakusa jiggled the HDMI cord to turn on the projector, and he didn’t thank him when Sakusa set up the equipment by himself.

“Did they ask for video call, too?” Atsumu asked.

“Check the invite.”

“I know you already got it open, Omi. Can’t you just tell me?”

Sakusa’s eye twitched. “No video. But they’re probably going to share their screen.”

“So are you going to—”

“Hello?” The speakerphone erupted to life as a dynamic, bright tone burst through. “Is MSBY on the line?”

Atsumu hit the unmute button, but not before clearing his throat and straightening in his seat. It amused Sakusa, because he’d never really seen Atsumu in action like that before. “Good morning, this is Miya Atsumu speaking.” He glanced at Sakusa. “Sakusa Kiyoomi is also present in the room.”

Atsumu gave him pointed look.

“Sakusa here,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Ah! Wonderful. It’s great to virtually meet both of you. My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I’m the vendor relations lead at Aoba Johsai, otherwise known as Seijoh.” Sakusa frowned. Oikawa sounded incredibly young to be overseeing anything significant. Atsumu yanked the other end of the HDMI cable out of Sakusa’s fingertips and plugged in his laptop to project his screen. Sakusa quickly ran a search for  _ Oikawa Tooru _ in his browser. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us on such a last minute request. Our external contracts manager, Iwaizumi, is also here.”

“Hi,” Iwaizumi said, deeper in tone, and far less chatty than Oikawa. Sakusa figured, based on the single word, that he’d wind up liking him.

“We’ve had a chance to review your CVs and reports, and we’re incredibly impressed with both of your experience. This call is more of an introductory and informational session to let both of you know exactly what our proposed contract entails.”

Sakusa tried to focus on Oikawa’s words. He really did. But he’d already combed through the work orders and previous contracts with the company, and he hated this sort of bullshit required to uphold company formalities. Because that was all it was for—formality’s sake, another item of the checklist to report to upper management about the progress that was made. 

As he sipped the rest of his lukewarm coffee, Sakusa scrolled through Oikawa’s profile—his widemouthed, charismatic grin matched his voice perfectly—and hoped beyond hope that he was far more sufferable than the other people he’d heard about from Seijoh. And far more sufferable than the man sitting across the table from him.

It seemed Atsumu struggled paying attention, too, because as Oikawa switched to the next slide to discuss Seijoh’s company history, a notification popped up at the bottom right corner of Atsumu’s screen, which was blown up against the whiteboard facing them.

> **Instant Message From** : Adriah Thomas 
> 
> Maybe if you slept with him he’ll let you have it ahahaha

Sakusa raised an eyebrow both in disgust and amusement. Atsumu made a quiet, strangled noise and made quick work of closing out the notification and setting his status to  _ Do not disturb, _ but not before Sakusa elicited a soft snort. Atsumu’s head whipped up and for a split second, his conceited facade faded and he looked flustered.

Huh. Sakusa had never seen  _ that _ before.

Atsumu regathered himself fast enough that it could have been simply a fragment of Sakusa’s imagination. His thick eyebrows twitched and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if he were trying to calculate the probability that Sakusa had noticed it.

Of course Sakusa had noticed it. The chat bubble was  _ right there. _

There were a couple of people Adriah could have been speaking about. There were rumors; of course there’d been rumors. Atsumu couldn’t do anything without inspiring a wildfire of gossip to be passed on from one cubicle to the next. Some people in finance seemed to think that Atsumu slept his way to his current role (though, based on Atsumu’s CV, this had to be at least partially inaccurate). According to Bokuto, Atsumu had a threesome with a couple of the paralegal interns last summer. Atsumu himself vehemently denied the rumors, but he did it with this wide-as-fuck smirk that suggested otherwise. Even if they were just rumors, he still basked in them. Jackass.

So it wasn’t surprising that Adriah told Atsumu to simply sleep his way into a promotion as well—assuming that’s what he was talking about. Unfortunately for him, Meian was happily married with a very loving wife, so he could attempt to use sex as an incentive to be promoted, but Sakusa took comfort in knowing that Atsumu literally would not be able to.

A bubble appeared at the bottom right of Sakusa’s screen.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> pretend you didn’t see that

Sakusa glanced at Atsumu, who was looking down at his phone. He was probably using it to reply to Adriah’s message to give himself some semblance of privacy, because he couldn’t just  _ wait  _ until the meeting was over. Typical.

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I literally could not care less about your instant messages with Adriah-san.

Sakusa heard a deep inhale as he tuned back into Oikawa’s voice. Atsumu didn’t reply to his instant message, although Sakusa could see him repeatedly typing something on his phone before stopping to presumably delete it. Sakusa, once again, suppressed a smug grin. Riling up Atsumu really  _ was _ too easy. 

“So that’s what we’re trying to accomplish with our subcontractors,” Oikawa continued. He flicked to the next slide, pulling up a list of ten companies, a few of which Sakusa recognized—including Shiratorizawa Incorporated, a company he previously interned at while in university. “We’ve had an unusual spike in problems related to deviating from written procedures. It’s led to a thorough reassessment of quality expectations set forth in existing contracts, along with investigational reports.”

Sakusa nodded along. He figured it would’ve been something like this.

“These have been an incredible strain on our resources. We’re hoping that MSBY will be able to provide a thorough review of the existing procedures and systems in place to ultimately give us a recommendation of which companies are a lost-cause, so to speak.”

In all honesty, this wasn’t the sort of job that interested him—a lot of reviewing written policies, pages and pages of often outdated documents that Sakusa was tempted to skim over rather than examine with a fine-toothed comb. But he’d seen the hourly fee that Seijoh had budgeted for them. And he wasn’t about to complain.

Atsumu reached over and unmuted the phone. “Excuse me, Oikawa-san.”

“Yes?”

“Wouldja be willin’ to send us previous reports about yer vendors? Or are you hopin’ that we’d dive in feet first without any prior knowledge?”

“I’d be more than happy to send you the reports and any active contracts from the past year,” Iwaizumi answered. Yeah, Sakusa definitely liked him. None of that small-talk, none of that rambling-talk. Just straightforward talk. Sakusa discreetly typed in  _ Iwaizumi Hajime _ into his browser to look him up. He, too, boasted of an appearance that matched exactly how he sounded on the phone. “We have the investigational reports as well.”

“Sounds perfect. As soon as the contract is executed, I’d love to get my hands on ‘em. Maybe even before, if it’s not labelled as company confidential.” Atsumu eyed Sakusa, probably expecting him to add to it, but Sakusa ignored him.

Oikawa continued, “I know this is an incredible amount of work for two consultants. We have a small team that we could lend extra hands towards, but it can’t be full-time. We’re in the process of hiring some more members to our team, but the current hiring policy has put all but one department on a freeze until quarter two.” Sakusa could rightfully assume that the one department hiring was the one that Hanamaki had joined. “Although we have a target of finishing this out in two months, we’re flexible on timelines and are more than happy to accommodate the delay by extending the contract.”

Two months was roughly one company review a week. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t a lot of work, but it was in addition to Sakusa’s current responsibilities. “Excuse me, Oikawa-san?”

“Yes?”

“Are these reviews going to be conducted remotely?”

“Most of them, yes—though there are two subcontractors that are still paper-based. We’re more than happy to host you and Miya-san at our headquarters in Miyagi.” Atsumu’s head perked up at the mention of the prefecture, and Sakusa wondered what sort of connection he had there. “Particularly with the larger companies that may require more internal Seijoh support to review, such as Inarizaki.”

“Sounds like that’d be a great time,” Atsumu drawled, and Sakusa rolled his eyes. In the past year he’d been at MSBY, Sakusa hadn’t travelled once. He noticed Atsumu travelled at least once per quarter. Those were the most peaceful periods of his work life. “Would love to meetcha in-office and get to know you folks at Seijoh.”

“We can work out specific travel costs in the contracts. I believe Iwa-chan—” Iwa-chan? Did Oikawa, the lead of external relations, just call his coworker  _ Iwa-chan? _ Suddenly Omi Omi and Omi-kun didn’t seem that bad. “—sent the revised contract to your legal team for review. Right, Iwa-chan?” A nondescript grunt that must have constituted as a  _ yes _ . “You can have your finance group take a look over it and punch numbers. All we need is about a two-week notice to make sure we can book conference spaces for you.”

“That’d be great. Couldja also let us know which ones you suspect will require onsite support?”

“Yes, yes, of course. We’ll reach out to them to confirm which ones you’d have to travel onsite for. They’ve been more than happy to accommodate Seijoh’s visit to the office, so I’m sure this will be no different.” 

“One more question,” Sakusa said.

“Hm? Yes?”

“Do you intend to have both Miya and myself assess each company?”

“Yes, that would be ideal.” Sakusa’s blood ran cold. “We’ve previously had issues with individual consultants whose assessment—to be frank—weren’t the best. We’d much prefer to have not one but two expert eyes taking a look at everything.”

Atsumu quickly muted the phone and smirked as he said, “Looks like we’ll be spending lotsa time together, eh, Omi Omi?”

Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose. And here he’d been hoping that he could take five companies and Atsumu could take the other five. Sakusa knew he was more than capable of making a good judgement call based on the information he provided. He didn’t need Atsumu’s help, nor did he desire his company. In fact, Atsumu would probably slow him down—always arguing over things that were stupid and not worth arguing over, getting distracted and pulling the conversation in another direction, those  _ fucking  _ instant messages that he couldn’t resist engaging in.

“I’m sure this will be a breeze for you,” Oikawa said in a sing-song voice. “The moment Meian-san suggested splitting the executed contract to include two of you rather than one, you have no idea how relieved we were over here. We need your help.”

Atsumu clicked the unmute button, leaned one elbow on the table, and said—without his eyes leaving Sakusa’s for a moment—“Happy to be of service.”

By the time their phone call had closed out with Oikawa, Sakusa’s head felt like it’d been sent through a margarita blender. It wasn’t because Oikawa had said anything surprising. It was because Sakusa had been metaphorically hit with a truck—the truck, in this case, was the breaking news that he and Atsumu wouldn’t just be office colleagues or office coworkers. They’d be  _ working together, _ on the same thing, for several weeks, and  _ traveling _ to the same location for it.

This was not what Sakusa had planned. He’d planned on closing out the contract with Seijoh as fast as possible, to do as best as he could, and to get a promotion. He had  _ not _ planned on working side-by-side reviewing company profiles with Miya Atsumu.

“I think we should go ahead and mark out which weeks we’ll be out of office,” Atsumu said while disconnecting his laptop from the projector. “Y’know, to make sure we got enough people to cover while we’re out.”

Sakusa couldn’t remember the last time someone covered for him while he was out. He’d taken a day off in June last year, to go to his cousin’s wedding. And he had a sick day sometime in November, during peak flu season, but it was on a Friday that had a company happy hour starting at two in the afternoon, so it wasn’t like much work would’ve gotten done, anyway. “I want to take a look at the profiles first.”

“C’mon, Omi. You gotta plan ahead of time. We can always tell them if we gotta adjust.”

“Review first,” Sakusa argued. “Plan after, and accordingly.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. He swiveled his chair back and forth, one arm draped around the back of it. “You’re a total by-the-book type of guy.”

“I’d have pegged you as the kind of person who would’ve noticed that by now.” Sakusa stood up. “Until we get those profiles from Iwaizumi-san, kindly do not bother me. I have a lot of work to do.”

“That, you always do.” Sakusa felt Atsumu’s eyes on his back the entire time as he exited the conference room. His fists tightened subconsciously.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Seijoh, Ltd. — Expected Travel
> 
> Hi Inunaki,
> 
> Please see planned business arrangements for onsite support regarding the contract with Seijoh.
> 
> These are tentative dates, and could very well change depending on project status and individual subcontractor availability. We will know more once the contract is fully executed and we’ve had time to review the company profiles.
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

What the fuck?

* * *

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> What the fuck.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> ur welcome :)

It took all the willpower in the world for Sakusa not to hurl his phone across the office.

Atsumu was deliberately attempting to piss him off, and it was working.

Sakusa recognized the value in preparing ahead of time, yes, but they knew virtually nothing about the companies they’d be working for, and they had no idea about Seijoh’s availability. Sakusa also had way too many commitments at the office to simply ditch in favor of committing time to travel and to working offsite.

A tendon in his jaw tightened painfully, drawing awareness to the fact that he’d been clenching his jaw so hard that he was sure at least a few molars would splinter. He couldn’t simply reply back to the email to let Inunaki and Meian that Atsumu was in the wrong, either—it wasn’t a good look, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was a certain level of office politics he had to play by in order to make himself look like the kind of person Meian wanted to keep around.

If this was a preview to what it would be like working side-by-side with Atsumu, Sakusa might as well just walk away. He’d lose his goddamn mind before ever having a shot at snagging that promotion.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> u will thank me later

Sakusa looked up from his desk, unsurprised to find Atsumu swiveling in his chair, once again. One leg crossed over the other, elbows resting on the arms of his chair, eyes challenging Sakusa to do something about it. Sakusa’s skin prickled.

This wasn’t funny. Atsumu looked amused, unbothered, and unthreatened by Sakusa’s death glare. Perhaps he’d been subjected to it enough that he’d grown immune. Sakusa clenched his jaw and turned back to his computer screen—nearly two hundred unread emails, all from the past twelve hours—and forced himself to focus. He had work to do.

* * *

Sakusa often numbered his days by the text messages he received from his cousin, Komori. Without fail, Komori would text him at four every afternoon. It wasn’t always check-in text—sometimes it was a meme, or a reminder, or some random passing thought Komori had—but today’s message felt eerily prophetic.

> **From** : Komori Motoya 
> 
> I’m having a drink with coworkers if you’re free!
> 
> _ Komori Motoya has their location with you. _
> 
> Or if you’re not free, you should have a drink yourself LOL

Sakusa didn’t boast about drinking on the job, but he did allow himself one drink in the afternoons. Not everyday and not enough to get him drunk. And certainly not enough to hinder his work performance, but enough to fill him with a warmth that spread from his belly and made his rising cortisol levels a little more bearable. 

As Sakusa finished up another review of one of Hanamaki’s never-ending reports, he forwarded his comments to the client and stood up, snatching the mug that sat on his desk, keeping him company.

> **To** : Komori Motoya 
> 
> Maybe next time.
> 
> I’ll have a drink by myself, unfortunately.

Except there was no  _ next time _ , not for Sakusa, who was always the person cancelling personal appointments in favor of slewing over the monstrous email inbox that never seemed to hit the single digits, or even the double digits. He felt a little bad about it, but he made an effort where effort was required—like going to Komori’s wedding, or going to his distant relative’s funeral. They weren’t frivolous days off.

Sakusa pulled off his jacket and headed for the elevators, pausing for a moment before deciding to take the stairs. He’d been stuck at his desk for almost eight hours straight already, so any small amount of extra movement would be welcoming to his body. Though he was diligent about going to the gym every other day—often late at night, when it was empty and he needed something to clear his mind—and remained active that way, sitting on his ass for long stretches of time couldn’t have been good for him.

Once he had clambered down two staircases, Sakusa stopped abruptly, clutching his mug to his chest.

Because there were distinct  _ wet _ noises that definitely did  _ not _ sound appropriate for an office building staircase.

Sakusa sighed. He heard his fair share of urban legends related to office sex, office hand jobs, office blow jobs, office make out sessions—anything that should have been kept strictly  _ out _ of the office. By a stroke of luck, Sakusa hadn’t run into these types of awkward scenarios.

Hanamaki had, on more than one occasion, seen some real shit, and also gotten himself into real shit. It was sort of funny, in its own, crude way, but also annoying and gross and something Sakusa had prayed would never happen to him.

He supposed there was a first for everything.

“Excuse me,” Sakusa said in the flattest tone he could muster. His voice bounced off the concrete walls. 

“Shit,” he heard, and he really, really hoped it wasn’t Suna’s voice he was hearing. There was a rustling of clothes, a clink of a belt buckle, before, moments later, a creaking and slamming of a heavy door.

Batshit. Everyone in this goddamn company—and maybe even the entire office building—was fucking batshit.

Sakusa resumed his walk down the stairs, ID lanyard swinging across his chest. He tightened his grip around his mug, tempted, more than ever, to fill it to the brim with Hanamaki’s Chinese liquor to cleanse himself of the experience. By the time he reached Miya’s Corner, he was slightly out of breath.

Gin took one glance at him and said, “Rough day?”

Sakusa collapsed at the stool by the counter. He should have brought his laptop to have something to do rather than sit idly at the coffee bar. The sound of sloppy kissing echoed in his mind. If he spent his free time making out with coworkers instead of working, he probably would’ve been fired by now. That was how it was supposed to work. “Rough is an understatement.”

“It’s only Monday, Sakusa-kun.”

“I’m well aware.” Sakusa slid his empty mug across the counter. “Give me something strong.”

“You sure?” Gin glanced at the clock. Maybe it was a little early to be drinking, but it was time for happy hour for a lot of other people in Tokyo right now, and Sakusa had gotten more done today than he expected. Besides, he planned on working after hours yet again, so what could a small sliver of time chatting with Gin while knocking back a cocktail possibly cost him?

Sakusa nodded.

“Caffeine?”

“Yes, please.”

Gin saluted him and got to work whipping up his special that Sakusa had grown to love and appreciate: an espresso martini. 

“You would not just fucking believe what I ran into,” Sakusa muttered.

“What?”

“Someone making out in the stairwell.”

“Oh. That’s it?” Gin laughed as the whirring of the coffee grinder erupted in the otherwise quiet cafe. “You’re lucky it wasn’t more than that.”

“I’m half-convinced I heard Suna.”

“You could tell from the smoochin’ sounds?”

“No. When I said something, I heard someone say, ‘Shit.’ It sounded like Suna.”

“Hm.” Gin pulled out a cocktail shaker and glanced around the cafe before lowering his voice. “That would explain why I haven’t seen Osamu-kun in a while.”

Sakusa groaned as Gin laughed again at his misfortune, and he made a mental note to chastise Suna for it later. If they were going to sneak off to have secret make out sessions in the office complex, then couldn’t they use a fucking lockable janitor’s closet or even a bathroom stall instead? For fuck’s sake, they weren’t high schoolers anymore—they were working adults. Barely-working, but still adults.

“Have you thought about takin’ a break, Sakusa-kun?” Gin reached down to scoop ice out. From him, this statement felt like one of concern. Not like Atsumu, which sounded more like an accusation. “I feel like I’ve seen you age about ten years in the past two months.”

“I’ll take a break when I can fit it in,” Sakusa grunted. It was a common conversation they shared, and he hated that every time he managed to come up with some sort of excuse. If he took a vacation, though, he’d wind up just laying in bed for the entire time, not bothering to get up once.  _ That _ was Sakusa’s ideal break—not going to the Bahamas or trekking across mountain ranges or doing tourist-y things in the heart of a foreign city. All Sakusa wanted was to lay in bed with a hot cup of tea, discount rental movies, and a thick blanket curled around him.

“You’re doin’ that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you make excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses.”

“Even  _ you _ sound like you don’t believe it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You gotta make time for breaks, Sakusa-kun. But you know that.” Gin shook the cocktail shaker, aggressively up and down. He was more chatty than Osamu, and Sakusa found himself often looking forward to their talks. It was the smallest glimmer of life beyond his desk that he could look forward to. His curly brown hair was held back by a backwards cap that he sported every time he worked a shift, usually favoring the afternoon to evening slots over early morning. “I dunno how many times I’m gonna hafta tell you that before you finally listen.”

Sakusa extracted his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his notifications. Among them: an email from Bokuto asking for clarification about some of his markups, an email from Inunaki with updates regarding the contract with Seijoh, and an email from HR about performance recommendations for the promotion.

Sakusa accepted his mug of the coffee-cocktail and slid his credit card across the table. “Thanks.”

“Eh. It’s on the house today.” Sakusa opened his mouth to protest, but Gin shook his head. “Consider it reparations for havin’ to witness what you heard today.”

Sakusa laughed a bit at that, thankful that Gin was as kind as he was skilled at making the perfect espresso martini. He didn’t like cocktails that much, but if it was early enough in the evening, he found that alcohol mixed with a bit of caffeine hit him  _ just _ right.

“Oh, are you havin’ a drink?”

The sweet taste of his beverage suddenly turned sour.

“I’ll take whatever he’s havin’,” Atsumu said. He plopped into the seat beside Sakusa. He’d ditched his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp cream-colored button down. It was the most casual Sakusa had ever seen him. “Oi, Gin, have you seen my idiot brother?”

Gin exchanged a glance with Sakusa, who sipped on his drink. It tasted stronger than usual. Gin must have slipped twice the amount of vodka as he usually did. “Not for a while. He’s on break.”

“Great. I’m supposed to give him a ride to the station, and this son of a bitch hasn’t responded to a single one of my texts since this mornin’!”

“If he’s a son of a bitch,” Gin said, “you’re a son of a bitch, too.”

“Shut yer trap, Gin.” Atsumu glanced over at Sakusa. “The fuck is on yer cup? Is that Spanish?”

Sakusa looked at the words  _ MEMENTO MORI _ printed boldly across the sides of his mug. “It’s Latin.”

“Latin for what?”

“It means,” Sakusa said through tight lips, “‘Remember you must die.’”

Atsumu elapsed into a sudden silence. The mug had been a gag gift from Komori for his twenty-first birthday, straight out of university. By then, Sakusa already had the markings of a workaholic, and Komori consistently heckled Sakusa into remembering that he was still young.  _ Live fast, die young, Kiyoomi! _ He’d say.  _ You’re living miserably and dying miserably _ .

It wasn’t a lie. Komori meant it as some sort of encouragement to enjoy himself, to have a good time, to finally go on all those blind dates Komori wanted to set him up on. Or—and this was something Komori  _ also _ bugged him about—letting loose and having fun with other eligible singles in the heart of Tokyo.

But Sakusa didn’t have time for that. He didn’t want to date. If he felt a sudden horny urge, he’d take care of it himself, whether it was by jacking off in the shower or dialing up one of his previous partners with an offer for yet another no-strings-attached night.

Sakusa liked the mug and favored having it facing him every morning, because everyday the sweet release of death seemed far more preferable to having to face people like Atsumu on a routine basis. It was funny, in its own, bleak way, and it was humbling, too.

“That’s kinda dark,” Atsumu finally said, but he didn’t seem too bothered with it. “So wadaya doin’ in the Corner, Omi-kun? Finally catchin’ that break I keep sayin’ you gotta have? That’s rare.”

“I was just leaving.” Sakusa stood up, drink in hand. The ceramic felt cold on his hand, which strongly contrasted how warm he suddenly felt. Probably the rising irritation from Atsumu being there.

“Aw, you’re not gonna sit and have a drink with yer new partner?”

Sakusa turned away, from Gin and his perfect espresso martini, from Atsumu and his unbuttoned shirt and messy hair that had begun to unfurl. “Your new partner has new materials to review,” he said. He thanked Gin one more time and began walking away, as he usually did.

Sakusa returned to his desk and resumed his usual workday ritual. _ MEMENTO MORI _ kept him company the rest of his evening, staring him down even long after the office collapsed into a silence louder than that of a cemetery.


	5. the one with the project management

With the contracts signed and sent off in at a ridiculously fast rate—as in, within two days—Sakusa buried himself in skimming through company case reports and profiles, annotating the ones he figured needed extra attention during their review.

For the most part, he didn’t speak with Atsumu about it. Partially because he was busy doing most of his actual job description during the day and spent the nights getting ahead with Seijoh’s workload. By some miraculous feat, he’d managed to close out Hanamaki’s unfinished reports within ten days of issuing them (still behind the original Friday deadline, but Sakusa never expected that Meian would enforce that, anyway). He sent Hanamaki a text to remind him to submit a claim for the invoices he’d submitted prior to leaving. He bitched to Komori about how much he hated his job. He woke up feeling exhausted and annoyed. The usual.

Things took a different turn when Sakusa received a _three-hour_ meeting invite from Atsumu on Thursday. The invite said _Seijoh Review_ and the description Atsumu provided was _u know what we dooo babeyyy,_ which Sakusa had much to comment on but not enough energy to do so.

Against better judgement, he accepted the invite. Maybe he could extend the benefit of doubt to Atsumu. An olive branch of sorts. 

Probably not.

Sakusa gathered his essentials—laptop, pen, notebook, and his mug filled to the brim with diet Coke—and double checked the meeting invite. Conference room 11D. 

When he opened the door, Atsumu was there, feet propped up, scrolling through his phone. He looked up at the sound and said, “Wadaya know? You actually came through.”

“You could do a little more to explain exactly why you felt the need to book a three-hour window. Otherwise I’m walking out within the next twenty minutes.”

Atsumu’s lips flickered up in an amusement. “Really? I woulda pegged you for ten minutes, no more and no less.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Atsumu barked a laugh as he removed his feet off the table and sat upright. “Yer sense of humor’s shinin’ through again, Omi. Careful, I might start thinkin’ you’re actually a normal human.”

Any lightheartedness that Sakusa considered warming up to dropped immediately. There was no reason for Atsumu to say shit like that, and it wasn’t clear if Atsumu did it on purpose or if he really was that obtuse. Either way, as Sakusa set down his belongings and arranged himself comfortably in the tiny conference room, he grew increasingly aware of Atsumu studying him.

Atsumu could look all he wanted to. There wasn’t anything more to Sakusa than he’d already brought to work, unfortunately.

“So what is this meeting about?” Sakusa asked. He opened his notebook and twirled a pen in his fingers. 

“I thought we could go over some of the profiles together and begin plannin’ everythin’ in the broad sense of the term. Just from a project management perspective.”

“And that’s supposed to take three hours?”

“Better to overestimate yer time than underestimate it.” Atsumu adjusted his necktie and loosened it a hair. “Don’t gimme that look, Omi-kun. I won’t keep you longer than necessary.”

“Have you had a chance to review all the profiles?”

“I skimmed through ‘em, just flaggin’ down things that seemed like we’d wanna take a closer look at.” Atsumu plugged in his laptop to project it onto the wall, and Sakusa noticed that his IM status had already been toggled to _Do not disturb_. Sakusa pursed his lips in an effort to hide a smile. At least he learned his lesson. “I dunno ‘bout you, but I prefer to do the easier ones first. And hit the hard ones in the middle. Then finish with some other easy ones as we start to lose steam.”

“That’s acceptable.” Sakusa turned a page in his notebook to the list of companies he’d already ranked with _‘most problems’_ to _‘least problems.’_ It would give him time to wrap up his peer review of the reports in the coming weeks, and it would allow him to dip his toes in the shallow end of collaborating with Atsumu before having to do a deep dive.

“Acceptable? Just acceptable?”

Sakusa ignored Atsumu’s provocation. “Do you want to share the things that you found during your review?”

“Wouldja mind usin’ some inflection in yer voice?” Atsumu mumbled. He pulled up the shared drive, organized by company. “Yeah. I put together a calendar with target timelines. They’ll take, on average, a week. Shiratorizawa is fairly robust and has a good reputation, so I don’t think it’ll take more than two full days, _maybe_ three. I’m more concerned about the smaller subcontractors…”

As Sakusa jotted down notes, respectfully listening to Atsumu, he was pleasantly surprised that Atsumu actually _did_ read up on the material they were supposed to. While he lacked the in-depth knowledge that Sakusa now had, it was more than Sakusa expected. Every so often, Atsumu would fidget a bit and reach for _something_ —his mobile phone, his pen, the cord that connected his laptop to the charging outlet—but he seemed to stop himself more often than not.

Sakusa, for the most part, contributed very little, opting instead to listen. It was easier that way, even if there were small discrepancies between his and Atsumu’s respective judgment. They didn’t think the same way—Atsumu put more weight on company reputation and Sakusa put more weight on problems Seijoh had run into with each vendor—but there were no glaring issues that would force Sakusa to pull out his boxing gloves and enter a verbal sparring match. 

Halfway through their meeting, Atsumu had colorfully marked up a calendar titled _SEIJOH — Miya & Sakusa client services _and shared it with Sakusa. 

“I’m thinkin’ we should share it with Inunaki and Meian, too,” Atsumu said. “And you can feel free to share it with yer manager; I already gave access to Konoha-san.”

“Okay.” Sakusa typically didn’t share his specific project timelines with Aran, mostly because there was no need to. He figured if Aran wanted to know what he was working on, he’d request an ad hoc meeting as usual. Sakusa squinted at a series of events marked _TRAVEL_. “Are all the pink ones for business trips?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a lot of travel back-to-back.”

“Speaking from experience, traveling back-to-back is actually less stressful than having to be in office in between trips.”

“But what about—”

“Yes, I already checked in with Iwaizumi-san.” Sakusa’s nose scrunched at Atsumu’s interruption. “He sent over the proposed dates and is waitin’ on confirmation right now. And yes, I made sure to make it clear that this was tentative. Meian is fine with it.”

Sakusa stared at the calendar, unable to look away. Because if this was really what Atsumu intended to do, then he’d have three weeks straight of traveling with Atsumu. “I have other stuff to do at the office.”

“I told Meian he should think about hirin’ a consultant to pick up a bit of extra workload around here.” Atsumu’s eyes flashed. “I’m gettin’ ten hours a week of someone’s time to assist me. If you want the same, all you gotta do is just ask.”

Sakusa took a deep inhale. His hands balled up into tight fists, teeth biting down on his tongue as he controlled a wave of irritation that washed over him. “I’ll think about it,” he said, even though he knew he’d be the last person to ask for help. Over his dead body. He didn’t trust anyone else to do his work but himself, and he certainly didn’t want to take the blame if something went south because an external consultant couldn’t do things as well as he could.

Atsumu must have heard the _No_ coloring his tone as well, because he had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Omi Omi. When was the last time you asked Meian for some more resources? He’s got the budget for it, since Ma-kun ain’t on payroll anymore. But he wouldn’t give it to you unless you—”

“I don’t need help.”

“Uh, sure you don’t. That’s why that big ol’ pile of paperwork sittin’ on yer desk has started collectin’ dust.” Sakusa glared at Atsumu, but it only made him laugh. “How do you expect to bring yer best into our contract with Seijoh if you’re stayin’ up late to do work that ain’t even supposed to be yer responsibility?”

 _Work smart,_ Atsumu had told Sakusa last week. _Not hard._

“I’ll figure something out. Are we done here?” Sakusa reached for his mug only to remember that he’d drained the last of his coffee nearly an hour ago. 

“I guess that’s it for now.” Atsumu reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp leather wallet. He extracted a business card and tossed it across the table. “Here. It’s got my mobile number on it.”

Sakusa stared down at it. “Why would I need your number?”

“Um, maybe because of emergencies? Because you’re at least gonna pretend to get along with me?” Atsumu barked a laugh. “Use yer imagination, Omi-kun. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me for the next few months, and I’m stuck with ya. I ain’t happy about this either, by the way.” Sakusa frowned, and Atsumu crossed his arms, propping his elbows on the table. His gaze was icy, and there was a streak of intensity that Sakusa had never noticed before, likely because he was too busy and too stubborn to notice anything about Miya Atsumu. “I thought I’d have full autonomy over Seijoh’s dealings, but I guess Meian wants to have a fair shot at assessing both of our capabilities.”

Sakusa frowned.

“I ain’t gonna tell you how to do yer job, Sakusa-kun, even though I got lotsa commentary that you’re not too keen on listenin’ to. But this ain’t just yer job anymore.” Atsumu’s eyes flashed. “This is our job. And there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you run this as a one-man show.”

The tension that thickened the silence in the room was so prominent that it was almost obscene. Sakusa remembered Suna’s words to him, about having to learn how to sweet talk, and how, if Atsumu had it his way, he’d run this entire project through sweet talk and very little else. They were diametrically opposed beings, in a way, and Atsumu was right: there was no way he’d let Sakusa run it as a one-man show.

“I’m not letting _you_ run it as a one-man show,” Sakusa retorted. “Especially after that stupid stunt you pulled sending travel dates to Inunaki right after I literally told you not to do that.”

“Aw, c’mon. We agreed on a timeline. It matched up with my proposed dates to Inunaki. What else do you wanna ask for?” Atsumu closed his laptop, stood up, and stretched his shoulders out. The buttons of his shirt strained a bit against his broad chest, and Sakusa looked away, infuriated with himself for noticing in the first place. “You gotta learn to take it easy, Omi-kun. You’ll run yerself to the ground before you get anythin’ done.”

“ _You_ have to learn not to jump the gun,” Sakusa snapped.

“It’s called finely-tuned intuition based on experience and expertise.”

“It’s called bullshit.”

Atsumu snorted. “Sure, Omi-kun. Whatever makes you feel better about not havin’ the same thing.” Atsumu picked up his laptop and tucked it under his arm, waving as he exited the conference room. “I’ll see ya first thing Monday mornin’ so we can go over Nekoma’s index of procedures.”

With that, Atsumu slammed the door of the conference room shut, leaving Sakusa to seethe in his annoyance.

He lifted his pen, clicking it repeatedly, something to release the pent up energy that had begun to bloom in his stomach and in his chest. Fuck this guy. 

* * *

> **From** : Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Nekoma Supporting Documentation
> 
> Hello Miya and Sakusa,
> 
> At the suggestion of Miya-san, we are sending over the full listings of Nekoma’s internal policies and Seijoh-specific agreements. The files are too large to send via email, so I am once again sending a shared link here.
> 
> Please let me know if you have trouble accessing it.
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Iwaizumi Hajime

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>
> 
> **CC** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Nekoma Supporting Documentation
> 
> Hi Iwaizumi-san,
> 
> Thank you very much for sending these over! I confirm access to the drive. Can you also forward the contact information for Nekoma? I’d like to schedule some calls with the team over there as we conduct our review.
> 
> Best,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Nekoma Supporting Documentation
> 
> Omi,
> 
> Not to take over or anything, but catch up.
> 
> Miya

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Nekoma Supporting Documentation
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Here’s the markup of listings we should request directly from Nekoma.
> 
> If you continue engaging unprofessionally like this I’m going to report you to HR.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Hoshiumi loves me, even if you reported nothing would happen :)
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I know you see these messages omi omi
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Ah. Always the professional
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Anyone ever told you that you should consider smiling more. It would make you look less like a serial killing vampire
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Ok well once we meet Oikawa and Iwaizumi and the other people in person you best be putting on your best face
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I’m not letting your RBF drag me down to hell with you and your “die” cup

* * *

> **From** : Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Nekoma Supporting Documentation
> 
> Dear Miya,
> 
> As requested, please see attached contact card for Nekoma.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Iwaizumi

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Let’s goooooooooooooooo
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> “We” are not going anywhere.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Why did you set your status to do not disturb
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> You’re totally not in a meeting rn
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> HELLO
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Oh. You must not be getting these notifications
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Fine. Well at least text me your number so I can have it for emergency

Unfortunately, the notifications _did_ still pop up on his laptop, which was incredibly distracting, especially when Sakusa kept on getting pinged by Hinata because he was panicking over his liberal use of the em dash in his reports. Sakusa wasted approximately ten minutes trying to figure out the damn settings to prevent notifications from showing up on his screen, but gave up and accepted that he’d have to just deal with Atsumu and his incessant pinging.

> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> If you text me about anything not work-related, I am blocking your number. Do not fucking try me, Miya.

Atsumu didn’t respond to this, which was a relief to Sakusa. Atsumu had given up looking pointedly at Sakusa from across the office, gesturing at his computer. Ignoring Atsumu actually worked, which was surprising. Sakusa pocketed this information in the back of his mind for later, because he had a feeling that he’d have to use this method in the future.

Sakusa slid his phone into his desk drawer, logged out of the instant messenger—he didn’t care if he showed up as offline; he could _not_ deal with the inevitable slew of messages Atsumu would send his way—and continued typing away on his computer.

* * *

If there was one thing Sakusa always looked forward to, it was the weekend. Not because he did anything special, but because Sakusa found those two days to be of incredible solace to him. It didn’t quite nourish him in the way an extended vacation might, but it gave him _just_ enough space to breathe.

Sakusa’s weekend involved very little else other than sleeping in, cleaning his apartment, and responding to emails he’d ignored—or at least set aside—for the past week. Sometimes he’d go out, when invited, with Komori or Hanamaki. Sometimes he’d call his university roommates, but the conversation would almost always inevitably turn to Sakusa bitching about the office.

 _Then why don’t you quit your job?_ they would ask.

Sakusa always had the same answer. _It’s not that simple._

He had friends, too, albeit friends who were a bit odd and unwieldy, who often knew better than to invite Sakusa out for a night around Tokyo. These outings had, as most things out of work, grown increasingly sparse.

He didn’t consider himself to be a particularly boring person. Private, maybe. Reserved. Simple-minded. Sakusa didn’t have the mental capacity to think about anything too complicated, anything that required analysis or thought or weighing of pros and cons. So he spent his Saturday doing the small things he neglected during the work week: Sakusa went to the grocery store to pick up fresh food that had been lacking in his kitchen for weeks. He stopped by the drugstore to pick up a fresh bottle of moisturizer and facial cleanser and a set of three razor blades. He dragged his too-full hamper to the laundry room down the hall and listened to an audiobook while folding his laundry.

Sometimes—and this was rare—Sakusa’s fingers itched to dial up Iizuna, the last no-strings-attached guy Sakusa had been involved with. The last time they saw each other was for a clinical and quick thirty-minute fuck session on New Year’s Eve that left Sakusa feeling a bit dissatisfied, but it got the job done. He had dating apps on his phone, but they hadn’t been touched in months. There were plenty of eligible candidates for a night of fun, especially in Tokyo, but Sakusa always fully vetted them prior to meeting up in person. As with most things, Sakusa was cautious. 

It required time, though. Time to match with someone, time to strike up a conversation, time to move past the awkward polite-talk and into the authentic polite-talk, time to set up _whens_ and _wheres_ and figure out the _hows_ of a one night stand. The investment-benefits analysis came up short, and Sakusa, once again, gave up before he even tried. He didn’t text Iizuna, nor did he bother swiping left and right on the dating apps on his phone. 

Instead, Sakusa laid in bed until noon, reading through Seijoh’s subcontractors’ profiles. He watched an episode of _Terrace House_. He went on a run. He thought about getting a haircut, but he kind of liked his hair a little on the long side, so he settled for ordering a bottle of gel that his hair stylist recommended. He called his parents to let them know he was still alive and kicking, and his mother chastised him for eating too much instant food. He cooked himself a fried rice dinner and ate with the sound of the radio keeping him company.

That was Sakusa’s life. It was simple. It was incredibly quiet compared to the rest of the work week, which was more similar to a tsunami of office fires that needed to be put out. 

A little lonely, but loneliness was a welcome concept when he spent Monday through Friday being constantly bombarded by his office colleagues, at all different times, from all different places. At least, that was what Sakusa told himself. He may have been miserable at work, but at least he had the weekend to himself, and it was all he needed to get through another grueling five days.

Komori briefly texted him asking if he wanted to go on a bike ride with his friends, but Sakusa politely declined. Komori, of course, didn’t push him to accept it, and Sakusa considered if he’d give into pressure if enough was applied. He quickly dismissed the thought, though, and went back to scrubbing the tiles of his shower.

Because, as usual, he had work to do.

* * *

Their first company, Nekoma Institute, ended up being a breeze. A longstanding company with its high-tech and efficient systems, Nekoma boasted of only having one issue ever related to a potential confidentiality breach that had been rooted in a huge thunderstorm that took out the security systems. Sakusa’s Monday and Tuesday were consumed by everything related to Nekoma, and although he knew he wouldn’t go blind from reading too much, the onset of a migraine pressing against the back of his eyeballs said otherwise.

Overall, it went surprisingly well, mostly because Sakusa didn’t have much opinion other than, “They’re good.” Atsumu scheduled precisely one call with Kuroo Tetsuro at Nekoma, and did most of the talking—Sakusa merely sat while typing up his draft report and not paying much mind to the conversation going on in the room around him.

For his credit, Atsumu _did_ know how to talk sweetly to the big-shots. He and Kuroo hit it off, like two halves of one brain cell that existed only to enable one another into ridiculous discourse unrelated to the work they had to do.

Sakusa managed to scramble together some semblance of a report by Wednesday morning—details still fresh in his mind—and sent it to Atsumu. He wasn’t sure what Atsumu had typed up, exactly, or if he even typed anything. With that, the first of a long list of company assessments was completed, and Sakusa could breathe a little bit and focus on his personal workload.

His personal workload took a bit of a detour when Bokuto came up to his desk, for no other reason than to try and rope Sakusa into coming along to the company happy hour. “Sakusa-kun! Are you gonna come down with us?”

Sakusa looked up from his position, left leg folded with his left ankle propped up on the opposite knee. In his lap he held the last five pages of the most recent report he’d been sifting through. “Happy hour?”

“Yeah! There’s one in…” Bokuto glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes. Didn’t you get the meeting invite?”

Sakusa shook his head, but stopped himself. It was possible he’d gotten it but simply had not had the time to look at it. “I didn’t know there was a happy hour today.”

“It’s the third Wednesday of the month, Sakusa! Of course there’s a happy hour?”

 _Oh_. That kind of happy hour. Sakusa had never accepted it on his calendar, so it never showed up—though he supposed if he went looking, he’d be able to find it somewhere. “I see.”

“I hear Osamu-kun is cooking up a new cocktail for Tsukishima’s birthday.” Bokuto hopped onto the edge of Sakusa’s desk—much to his displeasure—and swung his legs back and forth. Just like Atsumu, Bokuto didn’t look like an office worker. Bokuto carried the air of an innocent man-child rather than a corporate office worker. His haphazardly dyed hair stuck straight up no matter how much he tried to gel it down, and his eyes were wide, genuine. Bokuto’s body was beefy, thick, roped with muscle. He didn’t look like a technical writer of subcontractor reports. He looked like the starting quarterback in an American football league. “You should come!”

“That’s very nice, Bokuto, but—”

“That’s my report you’re reviewing, right? It can wait! I haven’t finished finalizing the last one you sent me yet. So it’s not like you have to get it done any time soon.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sakusa.” Bokuto lowered his voice. “Okay, you didn’t hear this from me _at all_ , but apparently Meian-san will be there.” At the mention of their VP, Sakusa stilled. “He usually doesn’t come to happy hours because he’s so swamped, but he told Inunaki to clear out his schedule this time around. I know you and Tsum Tsum are trying for that promotion, so it might look better for you to show up.”

_Fuck._

Because of course.

Instead of responding, Sakusa flipped the page. “Tsum Tsum? You still call him that nickname?”

“Only when Barnes and Meian aren’t around,” Bokuto said with a wide grin. As much as Sakusa wanted to loathe him for his eccentric use of punctuation, he couldn’t deny the overwhelmingly positive energy that Bokuto vibrated with. “But, yeah. You should come. Especially if Meian will be there.”

“Meian? At the monthly office hour?” Bokuto nodded. “And who did you hear that from?”

“Adriah.”

“And who did Adriah hear that from?”

“Hinata.”

Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Hinata heard that from…”

“Inunaki.”

Sakusa groaned internally. Couldn’t any of these people mind their own business? 

“I definitely know Tsum Tsum is going to show up. He always does.” Bokuto chose his words carefully, the smallest hesitation in each word as he pursed his lips. Sakusa sighed. “I don’t know if this sort of thing is important to you, but it might be worthwhile for you to make an impression? I guess?”

“Who told you to tell this to me?” Sakusa said, because he knew for a fact that Bokuto would never approach him like this by his own initiative.

Bokuto stared at his shoes, a scuffed pair of converse that could not even try to pass as business casual if they tried. “Adriah.”

Of course he did. “I appreciate the sentiment, but—”

“I think you’d be able to get the promotion easily if you were as outgoing as Atsumu,” Bokuto blurted. He chewed his bottom lip, as if he could take back the words he’d just said, but when Sakusa raised an eyebrow in curiosity, Bokuto elaborated. “You’re so smart, Sakusa. I mean, you help me with my reports even though it takes, like, three times as many rounds of review than most other people. I owe my performance here to you.”

This was enough to warm Sakusa’s dead, cold heart, even if it was only a little bit. He couldn’t remember the last time he was praised directly. It almost felt nice.

“Atsumu is…really smart. But he’s smart in how he operates in the office? I guess? And I think you should at least come to the happy hour to try to out…outsmart him. In the way that he acts.” Bokuto shrugged, an effort to pass off as nonchalant, despite being anything but. “That’s all.”

Sakusa nodded, half a nod, as he ruminated on Bokuto’s words. It was interesting how everyone seemed invested in this, like they were two competing athletes trying for a gold medal. The term _running for office_ came to mind, as if this were an election and not just some promotion. “Can I ask you something?” Sakusa asked.

“Of course.”

“Did someone in the office start a betting pool about who would get promoted?”

Bokuto’s jaw fell open slightly in an echo of a small _‘uh’_ shape, and his eyes widened as he vehemently denied it. “No!”

“You’re a terrible liar, Bokuto.”

“It wasn’t—no! It’s not a lie!” Bokuto paused before his shoulders sagged in admission of defeat. “There’s a betting pool.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“But it wasn’t started by anyone in the office.” Sakusa frowned, because that made no sense. 

The answer came swift and soon, though, with Bokuto’s next words. “Hanamaki started it.”

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

Sakusa, once again, wanted to scream. How was it that Hanamaki managed to terrorize MSBY Consulting despite not even working here anymore? As far as Sakusa had heard, Hanamaki hadn’t even submitted a claim for his retrospective invoices, either. “I cannot believe you all started a betting pool because of the ex-employee whose sudden departure from this company is the whole reason why there’s a promotion to bet about in the first place.”

Bokuto grinned sheepishly. “I bet in favor of you, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t.”

“But you should come, Sakusa!” It suddenly made sense _why_ Bokuto was hell-bent on persuading Sakusa to join him: if he genuinely thought Sakusa had a shot, and the only thing Sakusa failed to compete in was networking with upper management, then of _course_ Bokuto would want to drag Sakusa’s ass to a stupid company happy hour. 

This bastard. He looked sweet as hell, but he was just as manipulative as the rest of them.

“I don’t want—”

“They’re always open-bar, too! So you don’t need to pay for anything.”

Sakusa thought back to the copious amounts of alcohol he’d witnessed people drink at the holiday party. He didn’t even stay the whole night, so he had no idea how much of their company’s projected budget had been furloughed for that one event. “That doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

“So, what? Let’s go.” 

Sakusa sighed. He looked at the pages perched on his lap, and the man perched on his desk. Many points were made, but the most compelling was Bokuto’s blatant admission that he wasn’t even going to get around to finalizing his previous report until later in the week. He had to at least credit Bokuto for his honesty, if nothing else.

“Fine,” Sakusa said. “I’ll go with you. But I’m not going to stay too long. I’m just going to show face. _Not_ so you can win some stupid pool of money.”

Bokuto’s brightened. “Great! Wait, let me get my ID and my phone. I’ll be right back!” He hopped off of Sakusa’s desk and bounded off. The office had already erupted into a subdued chatter as the clocks ticked closer and closer to four. Sakusa adjusted his shirt, making sure that the front hung crisp against his body and remained neatly tucked in his trousers. He flicked off his computer and stood, wincing at the cracking in his knees.

> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> A betting pool? Really?

As Sakusa slipped his phone into his pants pocket and scanned the office space for Bokuto—who already got distracted by engaging in a spontaneous conversation with Hinata, he noticed Atsumu, cup in hand, probably getting a head start on said _happy hour_ , and Atsumu lifted one thick, suggestive eyebrow at him inspiring equal parts irritation and a stomach lurch that Sakusa didn’t know what to make of.


	6. the one with the happy hour

The monthly MSBY Consulting happy hours were organized exclusively by Hoshiumi in Human Resources, who loved socializing almost as much as he loved a good mimosa. They’d begun some time in the previous year, when a younger group of workers decided that coming into the office strictly to do work simply wasn’t cutting it.

There was a reason why Sakusa’s young colleagues were dubbed the Monster Generation by managers: they had a monstrous appetite for company events where booze flowed freely and finger foods stuffed the narrow conference tables lined with plastic sheets for easy cleanup.

Sakusa had gone to a single happy hour in the past—the first one. There’d been enough uncomfortable small talk to get him to down two shots before heading back to his desk for the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t that Sakusa was bad at socializing. He could be friendly. He was friendly with Gin. He was friendly with Osamu. He was friendly with the elderly lady who lived in the apartment next door and helped her as she struggled up the stairs with groceries. He could do ‘friendly’.

He just struggled to establish a common ground with people who—to be frank—had thoughts that ran parallel to his. Sometimes Sakusa felt as though attempting to talk with his coworkers was a futile pursuit because they didn’t have much in common. That was entirely Sakusa’s fault, since he had very little outside of work to talk about. No one seemed to want to talk about  _actual_ work and work-events, unless it was another round of guessing who-fucked-whom in the copy room and left butt prints on the glass surface of the copy machine. 

There’d been a time when Sakusa was almost embarrassed about it, but he’d grown to accept that he simply wasn’t destined to be  _ that _ type of person. He didn’t have much going for him outside of work; therefore, happy hours weren’t something he’d ever comfortably participate in.

Sakusa arrived alongside Bokuto after a slight detour to the men’s bathroom on the twelfth floor (because Bokuto swore those bathrooms were way cleaner), the MSBY legal department (because Bokuto wanted to invite cute-Akaashi-from-legal with them; Akaashi politely declined), and MSBY Coffee on the first floor (because Bokuto thought the happy hour would be there. It turned out he read the wrong invite). They wound up trekking up four flights of stairs because one of the elevators was out of service for maintenance.

By the time they pushed past the doors of the fourth floor reception hall, Sakusa was slightly out of breath and already running out of the social energy required to survive two hours of constant talking-about-nothing over various drinks that contained far more alcohol than sensibility.

“Bokuto-san!” Hinata came bounding up to Bokuto as if he hadn’t literally seen him just twenty minutes ago. He turned to Sakusa with a wide smile, beaming as he held up a glass towards him. “Sakusa-san! I haven’t seen you at a happy hour in a long time. Or ever? I don’t know. But it’s nice to see you. Surprising, too.”

For his credit, Hinata was genuinely being nice. It irked Sakusa that Hinata felt the need to say that. Stupid, really, since it was entirely Sakusa’s fault for not showing up.

“Hi,” Sakusa said. His eyes swept the room. A makeshift bar had been set up to the left, where Osamu and Gin had bottles of wine and liquor on deck. Sakusa saw some people from other departments he usually didn’t see, including Sugawara and Sawamura from IT, Asahi from marketing, Udai from legal. He felt slightly alienated as his colleagues milled about in small circles, chatting with one another, and he decided to seek comfort by approaching Ginjima at the bar.

“Sakusa,” Gin said. He grinned. “What made you finally cave and show up at a no-meeting work gathering?”

“You don’t even want to know,” Sakusa muttered. He leaned his elbows against the counter, which was actually a long conference table stacked on top of a collapsible stage. How Hoshiumi managed to set that up himself, he had no idea. “Can I have a shot of bourbon? And whatever cocktail you want to give me.”

“Ain’t it a little early to be taking shots?” Gin laughed, but he poured him one anyway, a tall and slender shot glass that looked way too fancy for the discount liquor he served.

Sakusa frowned. “You don’t have anything nicer than that?”

“It’s the initiation drink,” Gin joked. “You’re allowed to have something better after you down it.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes but swallowed it in one go anyway, suppressing the urge to cough up a storm. He made a scrunched-up face that elicited another laugh from Gin as he got to work putting together a drink for Sakusa. Behind him, Osamu was filling up beer from tap for Hinata and Bokuto while simultaneously pulling out and stacking cups across the counter.

Sakusa felt horribly out of place. He shouldn’t have come.

“Here.” Gin slid a glass across the counter with a drink the color of amber-tinted orange juice. “It’s a whiskey sour.”

“Thanks.” Sakusa glanced at the doorway anxiously awaiting. “I’m just waiting for Meian to show up.”

“Ah. The promotion.”

“Yeah. Bokuto dragged me here.”

“Hah! Not surprised. He put a lot of money—” Gin went silent as his face went red. “I mean—”

“I already know about the betting pool.” Sakusa sighed. Gin gave him an apologetic smile as Kageyama came to the bar, a small nod in acknowledgement to Sakusa. Just like that, the fraction of a company Sakusa had was whisked away as Gin attentively served Kageyama.

Even Gin knew, for crying out loud, and he didn’t even technically work for MSBY. Though that shouldn’t have been surprising, since he worked with Osamu, and Osamu was related to Atsumu, and knowing Atsumu, he probably bet in the pool, too. Hell, he probably provoked people into throwing in more money.

In an unusual turn of events, Sakusa’s business had suddenly become everyone’s business.

It happened gradually, from the initial meeting with Meian to the appearances he made with Atsumu to the whispers that flickered across cubicles. Sakusa’s general disposition towards staying in his lane didn’t prove to be effective.

“Look here. Am I drunk already? Am I seein’ things? If not—well. If it ain’t the sea urchin himself.”

Sakusa didn’t even turn. “Can I help you?”

“Always polite and mild-mannered, but passive aggressive, huh.” Atsumu materialized next to him with an empty glass in hand. “Oi, Samu! Gimme a refill, will ya?” Osamu looked like he wanted to say something—like  _No_ —but passed off an uncorked bottle anyway. Atsumu hefted it as he filled his glass to the brim with sparkling wine. “What made you finally trek down here? Finally get sick of wastin’ away at yer desk?”

“I don’t waste away.” 

“M’kay. You don’t waste away. Still doesn’t answer what brings you to Hoshiumi’s happy hour.” Atsumu set the bottle back on the table. Sakusa shot a flat look in Atsumu’s general direction. His cheeks were flushed and he stood too close to comfort, close enough that Sakusa could smell the champagne on his breath. Sakusa leaned away in an effort to put some distance between them.

“Why am I a sea urchin?”

“Cuz you’re like. Prickly.” Atsumu waved his fingers in the air. “Like uni.”

“I’m not prickly,” Sakusa bristled.

“Hah! Just the way you said that was prickly as hell.”

Sakusa took a generous gulp of his drink and glanced at the door again. Still no sign of Meian. And no sign that Atsumu was going to leave him alone any time soon.

Atsumu, never one to miss things, commented on it with a smirk so icky Sakusa wanted to pour his drink on Atsumu’s head and never look back. “Meian’s showin’ up in an hour. He has a meeting with Romero from the Adlers.”

Of course Atsumu would know.

“I know why you’re here, though. You’ve got no idea how ecstatic Bo-kun was when he said he dragged you here.” Atsumu tapped his fingers against the table and against the side of his glass. Sakusa tried hard not to notice that his shirt was a bit crinkled, as if he’d begun to untuck the hem from his pants before stopping, and that his skin glowed against the warm lights of the room. 

Since when did Atsumu glow? Was Sakusa already drunk?

He looked at his glass, noticing that it was surprisingly very empty.

“I gotta give you credit, Omi Omi. I didn’t think you’d actually come. Maybe you want it even more than I thought.”

“Want what?” Sakusa kept his body facing stubbornly forward; he could sense Atsumu’s eyes zeroed in on him and Sakusa didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You’re a terrible partner,” Sakusa snapped. “Though I’m surprised you haven’t breached my request to avoid sending me an influx of nonsensical text messages.”

“I can easily fix that.”

“Kindly do not.”

Atsumu barked a laugh and leaned to the side to grab one of the empty cups on the table. He offered it to Sakusa and picked up the bottle with a raised eyebrow—another challenge. Stubborn as always—and wanting something to take the edge off of being in an uncomfortable social situation—Sakusa snatched the cup from Atsumu, fingers barely brushing against one another.

Atsumu poured him the rest of the bottle. “Drink up, Omi-kun. Maybe whatever stick is up yer ass will fall out when you finally learn to relax.”

Sakusa’s jaw clicked as he clenched it. “Do you ever think,” he said through gritted teeth, “that sometimes you say too many words?”

“I gotta hand it to ya, Omi,” Atsumu said as he sipped from his drink. He pushed back his hair and shifted his weight over to one leg, hip jutting out. Sakusa tried—very hard—not to notice. “Yer insults are always funny, even if they ain’t really insultin’.”

“It wasn’t an insult. It was a genuine question.”

“Do  _you_ ever think you say too  _few_ words?”

Sakusa sighed. 

“Hah. A sigh’s worth a thousand words, ain’t it?”

“What do you want, Miya? Or are you just trying to piss me off even more than you do on a daily basis?”

Atsumu snorted. “Nah, I’ll come and do that later. Don’t wanna rile you up too much, since that ain’t fair to getcha all hot and bothered right before Meian walks in.” His eyes narrowed, and Sakusa returned the glare. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

“You? Nice?”

“Yes. Nice.” Atsumu finally turned his attention to the rest of the room, which had only become more crowded as workers pushed through the doors according to their own schedules. Sakusa chewed at his lip—he hated crowds, and rather than throwing himself right in the middle of attention, he preferred to linger on the outskirts, observing the people around him. 

Atsumu, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. “I’ll be back, Omi Omi. We can chat up with Meian together.”

“Why would I—”

“It looks good,” Atsumu said, surprisingly short and impatient, and Sakusa blinked in surprise. “I don’t want nothin’ to do with you either, but you can bet I’ll be suckin’ up and dealin’ with it. So the minute Meian walks in, you come find me, or just sit miserably yer ass in this corner by yourself and I’ll come getcha.”

Sakusa stared at Atsumu as he lifted his drink in farewell, sauntering over to where Ennoshita was picking at the assortment of cheese and crackers. It was one thing for Sakusa to pity himself for his lack of comfort. It was another for Atsumu to call him out on it, to weaponize it and make him feel even more pathetic than he already was.

A strange, foreign sensation creeped over his skin, and before he could think too much about it, Sakusa downed the rest of his drink and raised his hand for another.

* * *

Sakusa found that alcohol helped, sometimes, when it came to talking to his coworkers. A lot of them knew better than to ask too-personal questions, or to ask too-impersonal questions (as in, questions related to work, because none of them really wanted to hear it), so although Sakusa  _ did _ sit on his ass for the subsequent hour, he, fortunately, wasn’t alone the whole time. People stopped to chat with him when they came to the bar to grab a drink. Sometimes it was just a brief and polite greeting, but sometimes it was unsolicited and extensive conversation, such as with “One Shot Wonder” Hoshiumi, who took an incredible amount of joy and pride in getting Sakusa to show up to one of his events.

“Am I a god?” he all but yelled in Sakusa’s ear, because he also notoriously struggled to hear when he drank alcohol. “I think I’m a god. Say I’m a god, Sakusa.”

“You’re a god,” Sakusa said bluntly, not even sparing a second glance.

“Say it like you mean it!”

“I mean it.”

“No, you don’t—hey, Samu-kun! I was drinking that! Don’t cut me off—”

Hoshiumi looked fully prepared to leap over the counter to snag his half-finished beer right as Sakusa saw Meian and Inunaki stroll in at the same time.

Funny enough, Sakusa immediately scanned the room for Atsumu. It was an action completely from reflex; he did it without even thinking, and by the time his eyes settled on Atsumu from across the room—Atsumu, who had on a big, lazy smile, complete with the faintest blush that sat on his cheeks and the small bit of skin exposed at the collar of his shirt—he realized what he was doing.

“What the fuck?” he murmured to himself. He must’ve really been drunk. Because why else would he have stolen a glance at Atsumu, unprovoked, and why else would his eyes have lingered on the bare skin of his neck, right where the top button of his shirt had become undone?

Yamaguchi nudged Atsumu with his elbow, gesturing towards the door, and Atsumu’s head snapped in that direction. His brain processed Meian heading over to Sakusa, Inunaki in tow, and Atsumu’s eyes met Sakusa, catching Sakusa staring.

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. The irritation from earlier had been dulled by whatever strong sour-whiskey-something drink Gin kept fixing Sakusa. He was on his second. Or his sixth. He didn’t care to remember.

Atsumu tossed back the rest of his cup and made a beeline for the bar counter. Even the way he walked was irritating, strutting across the room like a peacock.

“Omi-kun, you look better when that constipated look ain’t all over yer face,” Atsumu muttered when he was within ear-shot. Meian and Inunaki were stopped for polite greetings, but only for a short moment that allowed Atsumu to quickly smooth out the wrinkles on his trousers and straighten his tie. “Maybe it would do you some good to take shots before work.”

Unlike Sakusa’s usual MO of snarky responses, he merely lifted his glass up to his lips, the smallest smirk coloring the corners of his mouth, and said, “Don’t tempt me, Miya.”

Atsumu blinked at him and, for some reason, seemed to be at a loss for words. This wasn’t often the case with Atsumu, who never failed to deliver the most untimely remarks at any given time. He must have been wasted if his brain couldn’t produce even a fraction of the words it usually churned out. 

Atsumu fixed the lapels of his jacket and resumed his spot next to Sakusa, which had been vacated quickly after Osamu provoked Hoshiumi to come behind the bar and begin mixing his own drinks (Sakusa noticed that Osamu had mixed a bottle of water in a mostly-empty glass vodka bottle, but Hoshiumi hadn’t noticed). The clamoring quickly settled down when Meian and Inunaki approached the counter, and somehow, Osamu had coaxed Hoshiumi into drinking a large glass of water prior to throwing together any of Hoshiumi’s chaotic cocktails.

“Meian-san!” Atsumu exclaimed. “Inunaki-san. Glad you could make it in time—how’re the old bats at Adlers?”

Meian, at his full height, stood taller than Atsumu and even Sakusa. Sakusa always admired his demeanor, powerful and authoritative and just intimidating enough to demand respect from strangers. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he answered. “Miya. Sakusa. Good to see you both. Adlers, y’know. Same old, same old. They’re always looking for trouble one way or another.” Meian and Atsumu laughed, though Sakusa failed to see what was funny. He vaguely recalled Schweiden Adlers as their largest competitor and one that Meian originally hailed from prior to joining MSBY. Beyond that, he knew nothing about them—but judging by the attentive glimmer in Atsumu’s eyes, he knew more than enough. “Don’t worry, I’m loyal to MSBY.”

“Wouldn’t doubt you for a second, captain.”

Sakusa stood up beside Atsumu and tried not to notice how he was the only one not wearing a suit. “Good afternoon, Meian-san. How was your day?”

“Sakusa.” Meian nodded his head as his eyes tracked between the two men. Inunaki—considerably shorter than all three of them—smirked. Sakusa’s eyes narrowed towards him for the briefest moment, and Inunaki coughed lightly to cover up a laugh. “It’s great to see you. How are my two candidates doing?”

Sakusa didn’t like being referred to as a candidate. He also didn’t like being grouped together with Atsumu.

“It’s goin’ great, sir. Thanks to Wan-san’s expedited coordination with Seijoh’s legal team—” Did Atsumu call  _ anyone _ by their actual names in the office? “—Sakusa and I were able to hop on a call right away with Seijoh. Things have run smoothly, and the first write up of Nekoma’s already drafted and ready for peer review.”

“So I’ve heard.” Meian nodded in approval as Gin passed on a vodka tonic to him. “Oikawa sends his highest praise. I had a short call with him this morning. He’s very pleased with you both.”

“Hopefully it stays that way.”

“I’m sure it will. What about you, Sakusa? I don’t remember the last time I saw you at one of these happy hours. Glad the mountain of Hanamaki’s backlog didn’t drown you.” Meian laughed, like the said backlog was a casual joke and not the cause of Sakusa’s suffering over the past two weeks.

Sakusa, however, forced a tight-lipped smile. He avoided eye contact with Atsumu, who had turned to watch him. “I’m glad it didn’t drown me, either. Seijoh’s team is responsive and adaptable thus far. I feel lucky to be working with them.”

“I see you’ll both be traveling quite a bit for them.”

Atsumu nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a bit unavoidable, given that a few of the companies have outdated electronic systems.”

“Ah, makes sense. I’ll need to find someone to cover for you—I still have your request sitting in my inbox, Miya. I have a contracting group in mind to pull from, but I haven’t yet negotiated rates yet, which is why I haven’t responded to your latest email. Have you ever heard of EJP Raijin?”

“Yes, sir. A previous colleague of mine works for ‘em.”

“If you have a recommendation in mind, feel free to let Konoha know.” Meian raised an eyebrow at Sakusa. “What about you, Sakusa? Will you require a contractor to pick up on your workload to accommodate for the Seijoh contract?”

Atsumu fully rotated so his back rested against the counter, and he lifted his chin up towards Sakusa with the most smug, defiant grin Sakusa had seen in his life.

There were three ways this could go:

One, Sakusa could say yes, he needed it, and that he and Atsumu were on level playing fields.

Two, Sakusa could say no, he didn’t need it, and he was slightly ahead of Atsumu in demonstrating that he was able to pull more weight than Atsumu was capable off.

Option three was also a no, but Sakusa calculated that there was a chance that a  _ no _ would reflect badly on him. Atsumu had hinted, on more than one occasion, that Sakusa’s pride is what turned people off from him. He didn’t want Meian to think that he was above asking for help, although deep down, Sakusa knew he felt that way.

Gaze never leaving Atsumu for a second, Sakusa said, “Maybe.” Meian didn’t seem to notice that Sakusa maintained eye-contact only with Atsumu, thick embers of tension setting fire to Sakusa’s sense of coherence. The intensity of Atsumu’s gaze only hardened with more liquor that coursed through Sakusa’s body—or maybe it was the alcohol in Atsumu’s veins—so much so that Sakusa, for some reason, struggled to regain his breath. 

“Please give me a few days,” he managed to say, “to put together a list of responsibilities that may need to be delegated elsewhere.”

“Sounds like a plan. Go through Aran first. Ask him if he thinks anyone else in your group can handle it. If not, no big deal—we have some cushion in the budget, but please submit projected costs to Inunaki first after Aran reviews it. I’ll let Inunaki know if I have any qualms, though I doubt I will. I trust your judgement, Sakusa.” Meian’s eyes snagged on Barnes from across the room. “Let me catch both of you later.”

“Yes, sir.” Atsumu straightened once more, and Sakusa lifted a hand in a curt wave as Meian departed. Inunaki followed him and mouthed something at the two of them. Sakusa squinted to figure it out.

_ Lo-o-o-o-se-e-e-e-rs. _

Sakusa snorted. Inunaki was a pain in the ass, sometimes, but he was funny in his own, childish way.

He checked his watch—it was just past five, which meant he had plenty of time to go back to his desk. But judging by how the numbers were a tad blurry around the edges, and how he had to blink to clear his vision, Sakusa concluded that he was, in fact, a more-than-buzzed drunk. Which meant that trying to do work was probably not a good idea.

“Look at you go, Omi-kun. You’re well on yer way to bein’ an office star.”

“Does the idea of being not sarcastic ever occur to you?”

Atsumu held up his finger once more. Sakusa suppressed the urge to snap it in two. “Does the idea of being not a stickler ever occur to you?”

“Don’t you have other people to network with?” Sakusa said. He still had almost a full drink left, but the uncomfortable sensation of liquid in his stomach had slowed him down considerably.

“He trusts yer judgement.” Atsumu took a quick sip from his drink. “Meian-san.”

This should have come across a compliment, but from Atsumu, it sounded more like an accusation. Sakusa’s eyes traced the contour of Atsumu’s throat as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Of course he does. I have good judgement.”

Atsumu scoffed. “I’m sure you do. That’s why you’ve been knockin’ back cocktails like it’s a weekend night even though it’s only Wednesday.”

Sakusa’s cheeks heated. “I have not.”

“The fact that you blatantly tried to lie to me is pretty funny.”

Sakusa’s eye twitched. 

“Y’know, I catch you drinkin’ at yer desk all the time. You’re sneaky about it, ain’tcha? Never woulda thought you were one of those shot-on-the-job types of guys, but I guess there’s somethin’ new everyday to learn about. Though you do a pretty good job of hidin’ it.”

“As if you don’t drink on the job.”

Atsumu held up a finger. “On the contrary. I drink. Just not on the job. I only drink off the job. I got my boundaries, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa sighed as he set down his glass. Suddenly the thought of finishing his drink didn’t seem as appetizing. Atsumu slouched against the counter and leaned on his elbows. He reached at his tie with his free hand and loosened it before popping open a second button, revealing the smallest curve of smooth skin between his collarbones, and Sakusa had to tear his gaze away before he had time to process his next startling thought.

_ That’s kind of sexy. _

The thought plopped squarely in the center of his consciousness and gave him mental whiplash. Because Sakusa didn’t see Atsumu as  _ sexy. _ He was good-looking, fine. Aesthetically pleasing, okay. Objectively fit with nice muscles and a handsome face, sure. But mostly, he was a jackass. Sakusa couldn’t think Atsumu was sexy; he didn’t find assholes sexy; it had to be the alcohol thinking, not him.

And yet Sakusa felt the skin across his neck bloom with the itch to steal another look. 

_ What the actual fuck? _

“I noticed you stayed here the entire time. In this seat.” Atsumu lazily turned his face towards him. “Do you got somethin’ against being in crowded spaces?

“They’re not my favorite.”

Atsumu rubbed at his neck as his head flopped to the side. His hair looked a bit more wild—likely a byproduct of Bokuto aggressively ruffling Atsumu’s head in a brash show of affection—and his black piercing taunted him as it glinted. As if it were asking for Sakusa to reach forward to tug at the gentle skin of Atsumu’s ears, whether by fingers or by teeth.

It was definitely the fucking whiskey.

“Don’tcha think you’d be better off gettin’ used to public spaces by now?”

“Fuck off, Miya.”

“It’s a valid question.” Atsumu’s gaze wavered for just a second. He took a deep breath and proceeded to pull off his suit jacket, slightly rumpled with the smallest of stains decorating the hem of his right sleeve. He tossed it over his stool and moved to roll up his sleeves. It was, by all sense of the term, an incredibly non-sexual action.

Sakusa’s eyes betrayed him as they traced the prominent veins that flexed with every movement, from the delicate skin of Atsumu’s wrists up the inside of his forearms. Sakusa’s eyes lingered way too long at the area his button down sleeves met the inside of his Atsumu’s elbows. 

They were elbows, for crying out loud. He was drunk.

Despite being an absolute prick, Atsumu was making Sakusa feel—horny wasn’t the right word. Bothered was a better term, although Sakusa couldn’t quite pinpoint what sort of bothered he was. He just knew he was incredibly pissed at himself for having an actual complex emotion about someone as dickheaded as Atsumu.

“I want you to know...” Sakusa slid the rest of his practically-full glass towards Gin. Gin’s eyebrows lifted in question, and Sakusa shook his head and gestured at him to clear it. “Even if you think I’m not going to try every avenue to get this promotion—like showing up to Hoshiumi’s happy hour from hell—” Sakusa stood up. “You are sorely mistaken.”

“Am I, now?” Atsumu leaned in. His eyes took on the impish, mischievous look that Sakusa recognized right away. They were hallmark son-of-a-bitch Miya Atsumu eyes: eyes that challenged clients to give more than they offered and pushed even low-motivation workers like Suna to do more than he defaulted to, not out of respect, but out of spite.

Atsumu knew how to push buttons.

Sakusa had begun to learn that he needed to push back, and as much as he wanted to, his brain kept getting distracted. Distracted by the slight gap between Atsumu’s buttons that gave a glimpse of skin no bigger than a coin. Distracted by the tufts of hair that caught at the collar of his dress shirt. Distracted by Atsumu’s tongue as he licked his lips, pink and wet and completely unaware of the effect that it was having on Sakusa’s alcohol-ridden brain.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever gone after somethin’ you want? Seems like it.”

“How would you know that?”

“Believe it or not, I can read you pretty well, Omi Omi.” Atsumu’s eyes unfocused for the smallest second, away from Sakusa’s face and down to his shirt. Sakusa glanced down, suddenly aware of the smallest stain of alcohol he’d spilled on his chest. “You’re like an open book.”

“I’m surprised you read.”

“Hm.” Atsumu stood up and leaned in close. Sakusa flinched, leaning away, but Atsumu’s body chased him. He didn’t seem to care that they were in the middle of a public gathering or that their colleagues were milling about the room. The thinnest contact was made between Atsumu’s torso and Sakusa’s body, and although they weren’t fully touching, they weren’t  _ not _ touching either.

Atsumu’s breath was warm as he lowered his voice and said, “Nice try today. Keep tryin’ this out and maybe you’ll get promoted in half a decade.”

Sakusa’s lips twisted down in a snarl from equal parts irritation and offense, and Atsumu backed off. He picked up his coat jacket and gave one last curt salute before shooting Sakusa a wink. “I believe in you, Omi-kun. But for this, I think I believe in myself a smidge more.”

Sakusa had a blanket of insults he wanted to swaddle Atsumu in, but he once again watched, dumbfounded, as Atsumu ambled off, trousers straining against the curve of his ass with every movement.

Sakusa requested a glass of water and downed it before forcing himself to swallow some bread and cured meats in an effort to sober himself up. He snagged a stray paper plate and piled on as much as he could before requesting Gin to pass him plastic wrap to save it for later—since he hadn’t had time to cook, makeshift leftovers would have to do for his dinner.

A deep and dissonant discomfort settled itself in the pits of Sakusa’s stomach as he went back to his desk and gathered his belongings. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it meant, but he also knew that his brain was still coming down from its drunken state, and he just needed to be patient about it.

He went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and drank another glass of water prior to pushing his way out the doors into the chilly Tokyo air. Sakusa briefly scrolled through the newest unread emails on his phone before his frustration got the better of him and he powered it off.

_Maybe you’ll get promoted in half a decade_ , Atsumu had said. How presumptuous of him. How condescending of him.

Yet there was the smallest voice in the back of Sakusa’s mind that said:  _ how realistic of him. _ Sakusa shoved those thoughts away as he sat at the train stop. Logically, he knew he’d sober up in an hour. An hour felt like a long ways away, still. While holding himself up against the railing on the train ride home, Sakusa’s sobriety came to head and he was hit with the heavy realization of the thoughts that had just coursed through his brain.

He thought Atsumu was hot.

Still. Even after all this time. Even after the first impression where Sakusa saw Atsumu and thought that, perhaps, MSBY boasted of more than subsidized medical insurance and stock options. Even after the second impression where Atsumu had jokingly called Sakusa a  _ prim and proper goodie-two-shoes city boy _ despite having known him for less than ten minutes. Even after the several impressions that followed, where Atsumu bitched about Sakusa working hard, where Atsumu bitched about Sakusa lacking tact, where Atsumu bitched about Sakusa’s self-righteous attitude.

Even after all that. Sakusa’s mind still flashed back to the narrow strip of skin along Atsumu’s collarbones.

This was an incredibly devastating realization to come to. Sakusa had the sudden urge to scream in the middle of the Tokyo metro car packed with innocent bystanders. It wasn’t that it was completely out of the ordinary to find an attractive man...well, attractive. But this was  _ Atsumu _ . Atsumu was infuriating. He was insufferable. He was self-centered and a know-it-all and he had a huge mouth that couldn’t resist putting someone down. He was his coworker and rival and the person who thought he deserved everything he got while putting in half the work that Sakusa did.

He was also—and this was enough to make Sakusa question everything he thought he knew about himself—incredibly hot.

Sakusa didn’t know what to do with this information. Sleeping with Atsumu was out of the question, for more than a few reasons. Never speaking to Atsumu again was impossible, for even more reasons. The most reasonable course of action had to be finding distraction elsewhere that would cure Sakusa of the itch his body demanded.

And so, as he unlocked the door to his apartment with one hand, he texted Iizuna with the other, asking if he was free.

Iizuna showed up three hours later, long after the effects alcohol had subsided from Sakusa's mind so all that remained was the existential crisis triggered by his startling revelation. Iizuna wore a pair of track pants and an oversized t-shirt, like he’d just woken up from a nap, and Sakusa pulled him into bed, simmering with frustration and anger and maybe even a bit of abhorrent sexual-frustration-induced self-loathing.

Fuck sessions with Iizuna were easy—clinical, even—because Sakusa knew what he liked and what he didn’t like. He didn’t have to think too much about what rhythm Iizuna preferred, nor did he have to be concerned about Iizuna overstaying his welcome after. 

When Sakusa reached down between them and felt Iizuna’s breath against the side of his face as he worked Iizuna in a quick frenzy, his brain flashed to the champagne-scented breath from earlier that night. Sakusa promptly shoved the thought away and instead let Iizuna suck him off until he stopped thinking anything at all.

It had been a while since Sakusa had gotten laid—so long, in fact, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to have someone give as much as he gave. It was almost enough to distract Sakusa from the fact that, despite the disgust that coursed through his being, he was still physically attracted to the Miya Atsumu.

Almost.

But not really.


	7. the one with the elevator

Sakusa stumbled into work the next day— _late._ Technically, there was no such thing as _‘late’_ in salary positions. But it was late for Sakusa. He’d gotten into the habit of arriving around eight, maybe a little earlier, when traffic was slower and the office wasn’t overrun by noisy coworkers yet. Showing up late could be justified by the alarming number of times (as in, everyday) when Sakusa had ‘clocked out’ of the office only to continue working when he got home.

The _reason_ he was late, however, was unforgivable. Last night, he’d been so mentally frazzled that when he collapsed beside Iizuna on his bed, bare chest heaving and sticky with sweat, he’d taken a look out the window—at the cold drizzle against the glass—and offered to let Iizuna to crash for the night.

Iizuna had gladly tucked himself under the blankets with his back facing towards him, rising and falling in steady breaths. They didn’t cuddle nor did they share post-sex kisses, and Sakusa passed out to the sound of Iizuna’s light snoring.

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that when Sakusa’s alarm went off in the morning, uncomfortably hard and exhausted from the night before, Iizuna stirred and lifted his head with a sly smile containing a wordless, lazy offer. An offer that, against better judgement, Sakusa had accepted. Which was how he found himself giving and receiving orgasms while the sun was still hanging low over the horizon. Unheard of. Ridiculous.

His mind was still caught in the haze of just waking up, and the sex didn’t do anything to clear his mind. It just made him late. 

Iizuna left shortly after, extending another offer for Sakusa to dial him up any time. Sakusa had politely smiled in return, but all he could think about was the fact that his impulsive dialing-up should have never happened in the first place. The subsequent morning fuck session the next day shouldn’t have happened, either.

Sakusa had then proceeded to make a desperate attempt to get his shit together, including a haphazard shower and grabbing the first clothes readily available to him. His curls rested damp against the nape of his neck, and he could only hope that his mismatched socks remained hidden under the hem of his pants.

Sakusa cursed as he bolted off the metro and dodged pedestrians on his route to the office complex. The sidewalks hissed with the screech of tires against wet pavement, and the toe of his shoe scuffed against the curb. It was nine-thirty, and of course he had to have a meeting at ten with none other than his manager to review potential travel dates Atsumu proposed. Sakusa had literally bulleted his notes for his meeting on his phone, doing his best not to bump into anyone on the swerving subway car, as a last-minute effort to prepare at least _something_.

Thirty minutes until his meeting—it sounded like a lot, but it wasn’t, not when he hadn’t answered any emails in the past twenty-four hours and that his half-assed notes to guide the conversation with Aran were fragmented and bordering on incoherent. He’d let himself get distracted. This was entirely his fault.

As Sakusa passed through the tall glass doors at the entrance, he fought against the temptation to stop by Miya’s Corner and hustled towards the elevator, praying that they operated smoothly so he could avoid a trek up the stairs.

His prayer came up short when he saw none other than Atsumu standing there, leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand while scrolling through his phone with the other.

Sakusa really _did_ have the worst luck.

Atsumu seemed to sense Sakusa glaring at him, because he glanced up. Unlike Sakusa, he looked well-rested and offered a toothy grin that Sakusa wouldn’t have been able to muster up even if he tried. “Good mornin’, Omi-kun. Funny runnin’ into you here.” His eyes drank in Sakusa’s full appearance, from the half-untucked shirt to the wrinkled pants. He didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze dragged leisurely across from head to toe. Sakusa’s skin prickled under his scrutiny.

“Miya.”

“This is a surprise. I figured you’d already be at yer desk.”

Sakusa held onto the strap of his bag in a defense mechanism. He pushed at the button that was already glowing with yellow light, as if it would make it move any faster. “I had a personal appointment this morning.”

“Personal, huh…” Atsumu turned back to his phone. “Didn’t realize you had anythin’ personal goin’ on in yer life.”

Sakusa ignored him.

“Y’know, didn’t get a chance to tell ya, but it was refreshin’ to see you at Hoshiumi’s happy hour yesterday. Didja leave before you saw Hoshiumi give a toast to ya? I think you did.” Sakusa pushed the elevator button again. “He’s startin’ to claim he’s a Sakusa-whisperer. Braggin’ about it nonstop.”

“I didn’t realize my appearance meant that much to Hoshiumi-kun.”

“If you come to the next one, Hoshiumi said he’d order whatever finger food you like.” Atsumu’s eyes traced Sakusa as he reached for the button again. “Y’know, this shit elevator won’t move faster just cuz you hit the button more.”

Sakusa scowled. “I know that.”

“If you’re this impatient, there’s always the stairs.”

Sakusa would have loved to take the stairs, but there was a whole other problem—his hip flexors and his thighs were kind of sore. He’d noticed it after finally coming down from fucking Iizuna: when he stood up, ass-naked, to go to the shower after Iizuna had left, Sakusa’s legs almost gave out.

He was in moderately good shape and accustomed to working out several times a week, but apparently physical and muscular strength didn’t necessarily translate to stamina and recovery from intense sexual activities.

Sakusa suppressed a groan. Did he really think that in the office? Did the words _‘sexual activities’_ really just cross his mind?

He strongly contemplated taking the stairs and trekking up ten flights despite inevitable discomfort and small bouts of pain. Before he could reach a decision, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.

Atsumu lifted an arm. “After you.”

Sakusa glanced around the lobby. There was one lone person seated at one of the sofas, chatting on the phone, and a couple of others waiting to be served at MSBY Coffee. Sakusa hated crowded elevators, but with Atsumu being the sole other passenger, he suddenly wished that it was brimming with people to cushion the startling proximity between them.

No one came around, though, so Sakusa stepped into the elevator and shuffled to the back corner. 

Atsumu pocketed his phone and pressed the _close_ button of the elevators before asking, “Are you headed to tenth?”

Atsumu asking him a valid question should not have been annoying. Sakusa clearly had issues if he found it annoying. He tried his best to check himself for said issues, but found irritation flaring anyway. “Yes.”

“Got it.” He pushed the button with the tap of his index finger while the elevator doors slid shut. 

Sakusa kept his eyes fixed on the rising numbers. Atsumu leaned against the wall opposite to Sakusa, arms crossed, studying him. Sakusa tried to ignore the way Atsumu picked him apart like a vulture.

The elevator flickered from _six_ to _seven_ right as Atsumu opened his mouth and said, “Yer hair’s still wet,” and the elevator came to a sudden halt.

Sakusa assumed that the elevator froze because someone had pressed the button, so he waited, expecting the doors to open.

“Huh?” Atsumu peered at the elevator’s entrance. 

The doors never opened.

Instead, the lights went out.

“What the fuck?”

“Wait.” Sakusa frowned. He couldn’t see anything. It felt incredibly uncomfortable, like climbing into a refrigerator suspended seventy feet in the air. “It must have gotten stuck again. I think this is why it was out of service yesterday.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

Sakusa really, really wished he was. He held his breath, willing a miracle to happen. Unfortunately, all that happened was a panicked exhale that drew its ways out of his lips. Rising panic threatened to send him spiraling into a different dimension.

Sakusa, first and foremost, focused on breathing, and he convinced himself that it was going to be okay. The elevator had stopped several times the past couple of months, and no one had died. They were going to be fine.

“What triggered it?” Atsumu’s voice broke the silence as he pulled out his phone and flicked on the flashlight. He shone it around the enclosed space, and Sakusa forced his head to stay clear and calculated, as usual. This was easier said than done, especially when he considered he’d started the morning neither clear nor calculated.

“It’s old,” Sakusa mumbled. He cursed as he reached for the emergency button.

“Wait!”

Sakusa froze mid-movement. “What?”

“What if it, like…” Atsumu made a strangled noise. “What if it falls?”

“It’s not going to fall, Miya.” Sakusa pressed the call button. Nothing happened. He’d never been stuck in an elevator before, and even as the word left his lips, he realized he had no idea what to do. “I think we should probably avoid touching anything except the call button. I don’t have cell service—do you?”

“No.”

“Great.”

Sakusa cursed again. This was just _great._

“Keep your flashlight on. I have a portable charger that we can use before it runs out. Once it starts dying, I can turn on the flashlight on my phone—”

“Wait, since when do I gotta give my phone’s precious battery to this cause? What if I got something I gotta do?”

Sakusa looked at Atsumu with the flattest expression he could muster. The flashlight of Atsumu’s phone lit up his face at the oddest angle, sharp shadows that crossed his cheeks and his nose and his eyes. “You don’t have service. We’re stuck in an elevator until the maintenance techs get here. There’s nothing for you _to_ do.”

Atsumu paused. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I can’t believe—ugh. I’m too young to die.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sakusa banged a tight fist against the elevator door, hoping someone would hear. The sound echoed against the walls, hollow and tinny and mocking as it faded off with a mere buzz. His meeting with Aran was going to be in thirty minutes, so Aran was bound to realize something was up when Sakusa didn’t show. That meant that, assuming the call button didn’t work, they’d only have to wait thirty minutes until help was dispatched.

As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Atsumu wrinkling his nose while sliding down the side of the wall, coffee still in his hand. He sat on his ass and stretched out his legs across the floor. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re stuck here for a while, right? Might as well get comfortable.” Atsumu placed his phone beside him and tilted his head back. He seemed to be fairly calm given the circumstances, but as Sakusa had learned, looks could be deceiving.

“My meeting with Ojiro-san is at ten. If no one sees the call light for elevator maintenance, he’ll figure out something happened.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a seat, Omi-kun. You’re pacin’ around and makin’ me nervous.”

Sakusa hadn’t even realized he was moving back and forth along the tiny space like a circus animal looking for a way out. He sat against the same wall as Atsumu but put as much distance as possible between them. It _still_ didn’t feel far enough.

Atsumu had his eyes closed, which was a relief, because Sakusa felt a loud paranoia that persisted under his skin—a paranoia that reminded him of the drunk and stupid thoughts he had yesterday.

“You’re pretty quiet.”

“I’m stuck in an elevator. There’s not much to talk about.”

“Don’tcha think talkin’ will make it go faster?”

Sakusa snorted.

“I ain’t askin’ for a heart-to-heart. Just. Y’know. Somethin’ to pass the time.”

Sakusa looked at his phone. He just needed to last twenty-eight minutes.

“What appointment didja have anyway? You’re never this late to work. To think you could’ve made it on time if you showed up at yer usual time. Then I woulda been here _all_ alone.” Atsumu snorted. “I guess I’m a little grateful I’m not by myself.”

“What a tragedy that would have been.”

“Geez, do you gotta say that?” Atsumu huffed. Sakusa heard a rustling of fabric as Atsumu crossed his legs. “No wonder you’re nominated for ‘most likely to commit verbal homicide’ in the office.”

Sakusa’s eyebrows pinched. Most likely to _what?_

“But it’s whatever. You and I both know I could talk more than enough for the both of us. Well, actually, I saw you seemed to have fun yesterday even though you tried not to. Scarfin’ down bread and gettin’ an earful from Hoshiumi. Don’t even get me started on how many drinks you had. It’s a miracle I didn’t catch you yakkin’ in the bathroom when I went—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu stopped abruptly as Sakusa rubbed at the crown of his head.

“I know you must be nervous, but your constant chatter is mildly distressing. Would you mind just…” Sakusa sighed. Trying to maintain a tactful tone was impossible. “Relaxing?”

Atsumu paused before he let out a feeble mumble. “I’m not nervous.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t a pleasant experience. But I’d appreciate a bit of quiet.”

Atsumu complied and collapsed into a thick silence that, somehow, did little to mitigate the increasing tension growing in Sakusa’s chest.

Well. This certainly wasn't how Sakusa had planned on spending his Thursday morning. He wondered what god he must have pissed off to be stuck in this situation.

When Sakusa glanced over at Atsumu, he had both eyes open and squinting at Sakusa. Atsumu frowned as he reached for his phone and held it up.

Sakusa flinched and brought up his hand to shield his eyes from the harsh fluorescent light. “What the hell? Do you mind? That’s rude, Miya. Put down the light.”

“Say, Omi…” Atsumu leaned in close with a strange expression on his face, like he was trying to solve a math problem.

Sakusa turned his head away as his pupils stung. “What?”

Atsumu kept staring, which was unnerving, and the most ridiculous thoughts popped into Sakusa’s head—namely circling around the fact that Sakusa’s neck felt warm by Atsumu’s sudden intense analysis. “What do you want?” 

“Is that a—” Atsumu’s voice, colored with amusement, hesitated, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “Is that a hickey?”

Sakusa slapped a hand on his neck. _Fuck._ He’d forgotten about that. Iizuna didn’t leave hickeys, like, _ever,_ so as he scrambled to shave the faint shadow on his jaw, Sakusa had noticed it, splotchy and located _right_ where the skin of his neck met the collar of his button down. 

He’d planned on asking Yachi-in-marketing for some concealer before his meeting with Aran. It was honestly impressive that Atsumu managed to see it in the dark space. It was less impressive that he relied on shining a flashlight right in Sakusa’s retinas to see it. “Shut up, Miya.”

“It definitely is.” Atsumu sat back in his previous position. Sakusa was thankful, for once, that the lights in the elevator had been shut off and that Atsumu wouldn’t be able to witness the depth of the flush that engulfed his entire face. “I’d put my money on that bein’ yer personal appointment, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Atsumu laughed. “I dunno why, but that just made me feel better about bein’ stuck in a metal coffin hangin’ on the edge of dyin’ with the one guy in this office who pisses me off the most.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not the only one that gets annoyed, even though you act like it.” Atsumu shrugged as he stretched his arms up, twisting his torso side to side, spine cracking. Though he lacked aggression in his voice, he spoke with a frankness that came across as a fact rather than an attack, it was the possibly the rudest statement Atsumu had ever said to him. That included all the other drunken commentary Sakusa never asked for. “It ain’t personal, Omi Omi. You and I both know it never is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means. Y’know.” 

Sakusa did not, in fact, know. But Atsumu didn’t offer to elaborate. He amused himself by holding his hand above his phone’s flashlight, projecting shapes on the walls of the elevator. Sakusa let it slide. It wasn’t like Atsumu’s opinion mattered.

“I finished reviewin’ yer draft report for Nekoma, by the way,” Atsumu said. 

“You did?”

“I sent it to Iwaizumi this mornin’ right before comin’ to work, so he should send it over later. I copied you, too, but you must not have seen it yet, cuz of yer…” Atsumu’s eyes flickered to Sakusa’s neck. “Personal appointment.”

“It wasn’t—I didn’t—” Sakusa fumbled for some defense he could bring up, but came up empty. Atsumu grinned sadistically at this, exaggerated by the dramatically angled light from his phone. He was, of course, wearing yet another suit, although this one was plain and black. Sakusa’s brain thought back to the previous night, though, and how Atsumu looked so much better without the suit jacket, with the un-popped buttons, and the rumbled shirt.

Sakusa groaned internally. Those weren’t thoughts he wanted returning to him. Not now, not ever. As he continued to avoid eye contact, his heart rate picked up the more he tried to avoid thinking about how attractive Atsumu was. This was a bad sign. He didn’t have alcohol as an excuse. He was sober, and cranky from not yet having his morning coffee, and annoyed from every stupid word that came out of Atsumu’s mouth.

“You don’t gotta get so embarrassed.” Atsumu’s tone danced with something akin to glee. “Though I gotta be honest. Part of me thought the reason why you’re so prickly is just cuz you gotta get laid, but I see that ain’t a problem for ya. So it must just be yer personality.”

“My sex life is none of your business,” Sakusa snapped. “Nor is it something I wish to discuss with you or anyone else at work.”

Atsumu laughed. “Professionalism, right, Omi Omi? I thought we moved past that.”

“I have very little desire to move past ‘professional’ with anyone in this office.”

“Keep sayin’ that and you’re gonna make people feel like they ain’t nothin’ but steppin’ stones for ya.”

Sakusa gaped at him. The irony here was dramatic—of all people in the office, Atsumu was the last person who should’ve been speaking about treating people like _stepping stones._ Atsumu was, by all definition, the person doing the stepping, not someone like Sakusa, who minded his own business. “ _What_ did you just say?”

“Well, it don’t really matter, does it? You don’t care about that. I used to not care, too. But I think I’m ahead of you in that way. Yer work’s decent, Omi-kun,” Atsumu continued. He pulled his legs to his chest and leaned his head to the side, temple resting against the wall. “I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from ya.”

Sakusa chewed on his lip. He had a hard time interpreting the implications rooted in Atsumu’s words, and whether the supposed-compliment was supposed to be genuine or if it was some sort of underhand dig. Atsumu didn’t seem interested in clarifying it with Sakusa at all, because he simply shrugged. “Your compliments don’t sound sincere at all.”

“They’re sincere, alright. I don’t think I ever made it seem like I wasn’t sincere.”

Sakusa snorted, and Atsumu’s eyes snapped in his direction. Any semblance of casual conversation quickly melted away, and he leaned one arm up against the wall. “Do you got anythin’ to say other than passive aggressive breathin’?”

“Breathing is passive aggressive now?”

“Everythin’ about you is passive aggressive. We’re stuck in an elevator, waiting’ for people to rescue us. Maybe we’ll die when the elevator drops. ‘Remember death,’ or whatever morbid shit you had on yer cup. Whatever. So. Speak yer mind.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever have the capacity to actually listen.”

Atsumu raised his eyebrows. “Then you continue to underestimate me, and that’s yer biggest mistake.”

Irritation bloomed violently, as it often did around Atsumu. Sakusa focused once more on controlled breathing, on thinking positive thoughts, on thinking anything other than the irritable asshole sitting in the elevator with him. With Atsumu’s eyes burning a hole through his entire body—and not in a good way—something inside Sakusa snapped, a year of pent up frustration and general displeasure for Atsumu and, honestly, the entire workplace environment of MSBY Consulting.

“Speak my mind?” Sakusa snapped. “You honestly expect me to speak my mind around someone who fails to understand the basic concept of human decency?”

Atsumu’s face hardened.

“Okay. You know what’s on my mind? The fact that I’ve been pulling my weight _and more_ than every single fucking person in our department. Only to be fucked over when someone leaves because no one else has the capacity to take over. I didn’t see Meian dumping Hanamaki’s work on you, or Bokuto, or Adriah, or—for fuck’s sake—he didn’t even give any to Suna, who you and I both know doesn’t do jack shit in the office. No. He gave it to me, and I worked my ass off the past two weeks to get all of it done.” 

Sakusa barreled on without mercy. “So it should make me a shoo-in, right? For Hanamaki’s position. I don’t even know why I’m in this petty competition against you, of all people.” He crossed his arms, facing forward to pointedly avoid looking at Atsumu.

“Meanwhile, you come in sucking dick for every person in upper management on the way, treating people like shit who you shouldn’t even be engaging with in the first place, and what do you get? A shot at a promotion that I’m more than qualified for. You might get the job done, Miya, but I get the job done well _and then more._ I’ve put in the work, and I _know_ I’ve done things well beyond expectation. I shouldn’t have to participate in stupid office politics in order to have a title that accurately reflects the amount of responsibilities _I’m already doing._ ”

Sakusa’s hand trembled at the sour memories of late nights that he really, _really_ thought would have amounted to something by now. He quickly became aware of the fact that this wasn’t something he should’ve been taking out on Atsumu, but Atsumu sat, still as a rock, listening with lips pressed into a flat line. “You think you’re hot shit, Miya. I know you do. I don’t care. I’m not hot shit. But I’m an excellent worker.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, and Sakusa didn’t look over to see how much damage he’d caused. He had a fleeting moment of recognition that this could cause irreversible damage, and that he’d pay the price in the coming weeks.

Sakusa couldn’t hear beyond the walls of the elevator, so he only heard Atsumu’s steady breathing as he collected his thoughts.

“If you hate it so much,” Atsumu finally said, “then maybe it’s time for you to consider switchin’ industries. This is how it is in consulting, Sakusa. If you don’t like it—nepotism, networkin’, high-pressure work environment, whatever it is you’re gonna bitch about—no one’s stoppin’ you from quittin’.”

Sakusa lifted his head and glowered, but Atsumu was unfazed. “Why wouldja even bother yourself over a promotion at a company you clearly hate?”

The two maintained eye contact, and Sakusa recognized that Atsumu was being completely serious. Gone was the snarky commentary and the constant belittling of Sakusa and his character. Gone was the intentional effort to rile him just for shits and giggles. Atsumu didn’t speak with malice nor did he speak with amusement. He said what he thought to be fact, no matter how much it pissed Sakusa off.

He also happened to be fucking right.

Just as Sakusa’s mouth fell open to respond—although his brain still hadn’t put together a single coherent thought—the lights in the elevator turned on, and slowly they began moving again.

Atsumu stood up and dusted off the seat of his pants, smoothing the lapels of his coat. “We get it. You’re miserable. But you ain’t the only one.”

Sakusa sat, dumbfounded. The doors dinged open, and a small crew of maintenance workers peered down curiously at Sakusa, still on the floor, who got a generous glimpse of Atsumu’s ass as he walked away. He didn’t glance back.


	8. the one with the departure

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Dear Sakusa,
> 
> Please see attached agenda for upcoming conference call with Johzenji.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> See attached for my comments.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> I think you misunderstood the scope I put in the second bullet item. Please take a second look.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I took a second look. I did not misunderstand anything.
> 
> I have no further comments.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> Sorry to push back on this, but I think we should limit it to two years and cite their company history. They’re nationally recognized for their quality control, so I don’t think reviewing a full five years is necessary. Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya— 
> 
> No.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> Ok well I disagree with you.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Great. Please change it back to five and then route it for you and I to both electronically sign.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> And if I kept it at 2?
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Then I won’t sign it.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Fine.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Here’s the finalized agenda.
> 
> No regards,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Thanks for sending it over even though you failed to route it for signature.
> 
> I’ve just routed it. Please sign when you get the chance.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> I signed it.
> 
> Momento mori,
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Call with Johzenji — Draft Agenda
> 
> Miya—
> 
> *Memento.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Johzenji — Meeting Minutes
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Please upload a copy of the draft meeting minutes to the shared drive when you get the chance.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji — Meeting Minutes
> 
> I thought YOU were taking meeting minutes.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji — Meeting Minutes
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Are you serious?
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji — Meeting Minutes
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> It was just a joke. You seemed on edge today. Guess it didn’t help.
> 
> Check the shared drive. It’s there.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

Sakusa slumped back in his chair, tossing a withering look over in Atsumu’s direction. Atsumu must have sensed him staring, because he lifted his head with one eyebrow raised, sans grin, but nonetheless smug.

Over two weeks had passed since the infamous elevator incident that left Sakusa reeling in equal parts incredulity and irritation—not just at Atsumu, but at himself. For the most part, he and Atsumu communicated, just barely, through increasingly passive aggressive emails, although both parties seemed to practice surprising feats of self-restraint by not letting it go too far. 

Though Sakusa was unsure whether Atsumu had been offended by his words, one thing was certain: Atsumu hadn’t said anything out of line. He’d told Sakusa the truth, and it hit him like a truck.

Quitting his job—and the industry—wasn’t out of the question. So where did that leave him?

Sakusa mulled over this, while tossing and turning at night, while washing his hair in the shower, while on his commute to and from work. He felt oddly stupid, because the thought of quitting never occurred to him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t a quitter by nature. He saw things through until the end, including jobs and careers. But what exactly was the ‘end’ for him? He had no idea.

So he continued on as usual, grateful that Atsumu put distance between them. Even during times when he booked a conference room for joint calls with other companies, Atsumu and Sakusa would merely nod in acknowledgement before dialing in. No words before or after calls were exchanged. Anything they had to agree upon prior to meetings was sorted out through email and, on the rare occasion, through instant messaging.

Atsumu still acted out in the office—without fail, Sakusa would hear his laughter booming from across the room—but he never acted out with Sakusa. If anything, it showed to Sakusa that Atsumu  _ was _ capable of having a filter of some sort. But he also wondered how long it would take until that filter would crack.

“Sakusa.”

Sakusa glanced up. Adriah Thomas stood with his arms crossed and a devilish grin on his face. “What?”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s fine.” 

“Do you think you could do me a favor?”

Sakusa frowned. It wasn’t often that Adriah asked for favors, and he wasn’t exactly the sort of person Sakusa trusted. Adriah wore a pair of black jeans and an untucked button down, which was  _ just _ business casual enough to pass in the office. His squeaky clean white sneakers glowed against the dirty gray carpet. “What is it?”

“Tsukishima’s unavailable. I need someone to peer review my report on Wakunan before I finalize it.”

Sakusa hesitated. “Why can’t Tsukishima do it?”

“He’s been swamped with other stuff. I asked Kageyama to, but Kageyama said he’s not able to.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s too busy.”

Sakusa wanted to tug at his hair in frustration.  _ I’m too busy _ would have been a valid excuse if he hadn’t noticed Tsukishima taking two hour lunch breaks with Yamaguchi-from-legal. “What about—”

“You and I know that Bokuto should never be trusted with peer review. And I asked Hinata, too, but Hinata said he’s even worse than Bokuto. Which I fully believe.”

Sakusa hesitated. “And Miya?”

Adriah wrinkled his nose. He was alarmingly tan despite the murky Tokyo winter season. Sakusa had heard that he’d taken two weeks recently to visit his family in Hawaii. “Atsumu’s been busy with Johzenji.”

“You do realize,” Sakusa said, “that I’m working with Atsumu to review Johzenji as well?”

Johzenji was, by far, the most difficult company he and Atsumu would have to trek through. Nekoma, Kamomedai Corp., and Date Technologies, Inc. had been a breeze, with polished processes and minor concerns that could be fixed within a few business days. Sakusa had merely forwarded the reports he’d drafted, Atsumu had added to them with his own findings, and that was that. Aside from insignificant comments, the two worked surprisingly well from a distance.

Sakusa decided this was the best working relationship they could have had. Polite, no outside-of-work chatter, and even more important: no rivalry. The experience itself was unexpected, because Atsumu was notorious for being nit-picky. He hadn’t challenged anything Sakusa had said or done or written—yet.

But that was with Nekoma, Kamomedai, and Date Tech. They were arguably the better companies they had to work with, and their next big project would take them a projected full week: Johzenji.

Johzenji was—for lack of a better word—a mess. Sakusa had heard about the Sendai company back when he interned at Niiyama, which was located within an hour’s drive of Johzenji. Johzenji had about four different PR scandals the past year related to its CFO reportedly overlooking insider trading. While this was unrelated to their internal processes, it was still fairly notable, and Sakusa and Atsumu would witness Johzenji-the-shit-show-company when they travelled onsite.

Next week.

Sakusa hadn’t even booked a hotel yet. Or train tickets to Sendai. He wasn’t the kind to procrastinate, but this was last on his to-do-list—part of him secretly hoped that he wouldn’t have to go and that the whole thing would be called off. Stupid hope, really, but stubborn.

“I’m out of office next week,” Sakusa continued, gesturing at his computer. “You should be able to see it on your calendar.”

“Yeah, but…” Adriah faltered, but only slightly. Sakusa knew Adriah favored others in their department over Sakusa, which was why they rarely had anything to do with one another. He figured it was because Adriah had some sort of complex, or maybe it was a vendetta, against him. Yet Adriah seemed to have no problem getting along with Atsumu, so he wondered if Adriah had taken sides with Atsumu before even bothering to get to know what kind of person Sakusa was.

“I need someone to peer review this,” Adriah finally said. “Everyone else refused to help me.”

“Can’t you bring it up with Barnes?”

“I did. He said to pass it off to someone else in the department.”

“Then—”

“Please, Sakusa. This is due tomorrow.”

Sakusa wanted to scream. The only thing worse than ad hoc requests were ad hoc requests that needed to be fulfilled on ridiculously tight timelines.

The weight of responsibility, once again, fell on his shoulders. 

“Fine,” Sakusa said. “Email me a Word copy and I’ll see what I can do.”

Adriah’s face lit up. “Thanks, Sakusa!” He bolted moments later, and Sakusa immediately regretted saying  _yes_ , like he’d always been pressured into doing in the past. 

He used to think the ability to say ‘yes’ and follow through with it was one of his strengths, but in the wake of Atsumu calling him out in the elevator, Sakusa had begun to think that maybe it was actually one of his biggest weaknesses.

Sakusa’s eyes reflexively met Atsumu, whose sneer said something loud and clear.

_ Sucker. _

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Johzenji/Sendai Bookings
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> Here are bullet train timetables for the trip to Sendai and back. See below for 6AM departure, should get to Seijoh by 9AM.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji/Sendai Bookings
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Thank you, I’ll be sure to get on a train that departs at a different time from yours.
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji/Sendai Bookings
> 
> Glad to see your dry sense of humor is back. I was worried I’d never see it again. 
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji/Sendai Bookings
> 
> Sakusa,
> 
> I’ll be driving myself to the train station and parking my car in the long-term parking garage since I can have the expense covered by Seijoh. If you want I can swing by and get you so you don’t have to walk or take a cab.
> 
> I’m only offering because Inunaki suggested it, not because I want to. But if you want to attribute it to the goodness of my own heart, I have no objections. 
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

Sakusa read and reread the email. He didn’t know why, exactly, Inunaki would suggest it, since Seijoh was the one covering all the expenses, not MSBY. 

The bullet train stop wasn’t too far from his apartment, give or take a thirty minute walk. If he was going to take an early train like Atsumu suggested, he’d have to make the trip before the sun rose. 

Sakusa hesitated. While traveling with Atsumu and accepting a ride for him didn’t seem all that appealing, neither did sacrificing thirty minutes of sleep in order to save his pride. 

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji/Sendai Bookings
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I’d greatly appreciate a ride.
> 
> I’ll text you my address the night before the departure date.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

Sakusa clicked open a web browser and copied the link Atsumu had sent with the bullet train schedule. He purchased a ticket and saved the receipt to his desktop for expense reimbursement. Their trip to Sendai would begin three back-to-back weeks of travel: Johzenji, Karasuno, then Inarizaki. Inunaki had suggested they find affordable hotels and maybe even split hotel rooms in order to prevent Seijoh from being pissed about the expenses. Both Atsumu and Sakusa had vehemently refused.

Just as Sakusa began to search up a regional map to secure a hotel room, an IM notification popped up.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> FYI this is the hotel Iwaizumi-san suggested.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> It’s equidistant from Seijoh and Johzenji.
> 
> _ Miya Atsumu has shared a link. _
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I already reserved a rental car.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> We’ll be carpooling.

Sakusa clicked the link and pulled up the hotel fees, a pool of dread gathering in the pit of his stomach. He punched in the numbers of his credit card reluctantly and booked a room for himself. Whether he liked it or not, this trip was coming, and—as with most things—he’d have to suck it up and deal with it.

* * *

When Sakusa’s alarm went off at five on the morning of their departure, he jerked upright, startled and confused. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and realize that it was the Monday of travel to Sendai.

As he reached to shut off his alarm, cursing at the high-pitched rings that cut through even the deepest REM sleep, he noticed a notification.

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> rise and shine princess u better be awake
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> see u in 45 min

Sakusa groaned as he pushed himself up into a regrettable standing position, fixed his covers, and shuffled to the bathroom.

There was a mental checklist in his mind to do, most of which related to Seijoh and Johzenji and even the upcoming Karasuno. The train ride from Tokyo to Sendai was two hours, which was more than enough time to be productive. 

Sakusa tried to keep his self-maintenance routine as typical as possible despite being almost two hours ahead of his schedule. His body protested, fatigue aching in his joints and the deepest parts of his brain, but Sakusa shoved it to the side as he blow dried his hair. 

He’d packed his bags last night and left them by the door, which Sakusa made sure to double check as his coffee machine churned out coffee into a to-go mug. He made one last round to make sure all switches were turned off and that the plants by his windowsill were watered before grabbing his phone, slipping on his shoes, and leaving.

When he reached the front entrance of his apartment complex, he immediately recognized Atsumu’s flashy car in front of the building. Sakusa had no idea what kind it was. All he knew was that it probably cost more than he had in his bank account.

The trunk popped open as Sakusa approached, and he tossed his bags before shutting it. Part of him was tempted to sit in the back seat of the car just to spite Atsumu, but it was too early to deal with the ramifications.

So Sakusa pulled open the passenger seat and shut the door behind him, leaning over to single handedly pull on the seatbelt. When he secured himself in the seat, he looked over to see Atsumu staring at him.

“ _That’s _ what you’re wearin?”

Sakusa frowned. He wore a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie from his university, which was a standard uniform any time he had to travel. He gave Atsumu a once-over who, as usual, wore a suit. “That’s what  _ you’re _ wearing?”

Atsumu shifted the car to drive and pulled away from the curb, body twisting around as he backed out of the parking spot. “I hope that’s not how you’re plannin’ on enterin’ Seijoh’s campus.”

“Of course not. I was going to change when we got there.”

“You’d better. You look like a uni student who pulled an all nighter studyin’ for exams.”

Sakusa subconsciously pulled at the strings of his sweatshirt. He hadn’t even thought twice about dressing up for business travel, and he never did. “I prefer to be comfortable when traveling.”

“Don’t we got business-class tickets?”

“Yeah, and?”

Atsumu’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but he didn’t say anything further. Despite the early time, the fatigue didn’t seem to bother him. Sakusa sipped on his coffee while discreetly glancing at Atsumu’s face in the dark shadows of his car. They hadn’t been alone in person like this since the elevator lights shut off and everything stopped moving. For some reason, this atmosphere felt even more suffocating.

The streets in Tokyo were eerily quiet, only the first indications of day-life emerging with lone pedestrians and drivers getting a head start on the day. Sakusa yawned as he looked out the window. He wondered what Atsumu was thinking, and if he really thought he looked that terrible in his clothes. Because although Sakusa wore loungewear, at least he’d showered. Leave it to Atsumu to get him questioning whether or not he was even acceptable in appearances.

When they stopped at a light, Sakusa asked, “Why are  _ you _ dressed up for a train ride?”

The corner of Atsumu’s lip quirked up. “I always dress to impress.”

“I bet you even sleep in suits.”

“If I could, I would.” Atsumu laughed. He even wore his ridiculous earrings. Sakusa wondered if he owned anything besides the black pair of crystals, or why he chose those specifically.

Sakusa figured he should probably say something. Apologize, even, for lashing out at Atsumu previously. The tension had been tangible and interactions had been awkward, but for the most part,  _ Atsumu _ was the one who’d been the bigger person. No one had approached Sakusa asking about his hatred for MSBY, so he assumed Atsumu hadn’t told anyone.

That would’ve been a first, because Atsumu was  _ always _ the one to light the torch on company gossip. Something about ‘transparency and honesty in a work environment’. Or whatever.

As Atsumu pulled into the garage at the Shinkansen station, Sakusa readied himself for the next long three weeks.

“Ready?” Atsumu asked. 

Sakusa nodded and stepped out of the car.

* * *

Atsumu slept the entire train ride. He’d slipped on an eye mask, neck pillow, and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and fell asleep before the train even left the station.

Sakusa tried to doze off. He’d told himself he’d sleep for the first thirty minutes then spend the rest of the time working. But sleeping was impossible, especially because Atsumu manspread across the chair next to him, elbow falling off his armchair and hovering dangerously close to Sakusa’s thigh.

Sakusa swallowed. He decided that he might as well read through Johzenji’s written procedures—only half of which were digital—to get a head start on the most complicated and questionable company review yet.

An hour into the ride, Atsumu began snoring. It was odd, seeing him like that, a thick, full-grown man in a fancy suit, mouth wide open as he slept. He looked less like an office asshole and more like a regular guy, especially when he stirred a bit, and his hair fell in his face. Sakusa hated that he looked as innocent as he did, because it made him wonder what other sides of Atsumu he had yet to see.

He had never seen Atsumu outside of a work environment. But now he had no choice but to confront the fact that Miya Atsumu was a normal human who slept with his mouth open and drool collected at the corner of his mouth.

Sakusa caught himself staring at Atsumu and spacing out multiple times.

He blamed his fatigue and sleep-deprived brain, and reasoned that that was all there was to it. 

* * *

Seijoh’s office building was about half the size of MSBY Consulting. Sakusa had only been to the Miyagi area once, and he knew that it was better known for its mountain views rather than bustling cities like Tokyo was. Sakusa didn’t love the country, nor did he ever aspire to spend much time there, yet as he stepped into the squarish, flat complex with the words  _ AOBA JOHSAI LTD _ hanging over the door, he found it to be cozy. Homey, even. And exactly the opposite of MSBY Consulting’s office space in Tokyo.

“I thought this place was called Seijoh,” Atsumu said, still bleary and in the process of waking himself up. He’d been so sleepy that when Sakusa shook him awake at their stop, Sakusa had to be the one to pick up the rental car and drive over. Atsumu had merely produced his identification, muttering words under his breath that were incoherent, and Sakusa had to take it over from there.

“Miya. It’s known as Seijoh, but their legal name is Aoba Johsai.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Can you wake up, please?” Sakusa, exasperated and bothered—he hated driving, especially in unknown places and down windy roads—wanted nothing more than to inject a dose of caffeine into Atsumu’s brain. “C’mon.”

Sakusa dragged his suitcase and reached into his pocket for his wallet as they approached the front desk. The receptionist, sleepy-looking with curly hair, was typing away on his computer.

“Good morning,” Sakusa said. “We’re here on behalf of MSBY Consulting.”

The receptionist looked up. “Are you the guys Oikawa hired?”

Sakusa nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. May I see some form of identification, please?”

Sakusa handed over his license and turned to Atsumu, who fumbled for his wallet. Sakusa took a short breath. “Miya. It’s in your jacket, not your pants.”

“Oh.” Atsumu reached into the inner lining of his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet, procuring his ID with the same lack of grace as he’d exhibited the past thirty minutes. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem.” Sakusa shifted and read the name tag across the receptionist’s chest.  _ MATSUKAWA ISSEI. _ “I’ll ping Oikawa. One moment please.”

“Can you get yourself together?” Sakusa hissed. “You look like you just woke up. And you’re acting like it, too.”

“I  _ did _ just wake up. Also, when did you change?” Atsumu blinked at him and ran his fingers through his hair, which also looked far less tame than it usually did. “Does my hair look weird?”

“I changed at the Miyagi station. Your hair looks messy. Go to the bathroom and fix it or something. Splash some cold water on your face.”

Atsumu cursed. 

“Excuse me,” Sakusa said. Matsukawa lifted a thick eyebrow. “Do you have a bathroom my colleague could use?”

Matsukawa pointed to the left. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

Atsumu ambled off, muttering to himself, and Sakusa watched him sway slightly as he walked. He hoped he’d be able to get himself together in the next couple of minutes, because Matsukawa slid the IDs across the table and said, “Oikawa’s on his way to come get you. Please feel free to sit in the waiting area.”

“Matsukawa-san, I was wondering…” Sakusa glanced around to make sure Atsumu was nowhere in earshot. He watched Atsumu’s back disappear around the bend of the hallway and cleared his throat. “Do you happen to know Hanamaki Takahiro?” Although Hanamaki hadn’t asked Sakusa to keep the identity of his new employer a secret, he wasn’t sure what Atsumu did or didn’t know. “He works in…I think it was internal affairs?”

Matsukawa’s eyes lit up immediately. “Yeah! He just started a few weeks ago. Oh, now that he mentioned it, he said he was originally based in Tokyo—do you know him?”

Sakusa’s chest warmed with fondness. Hanamaki and Sakusa had exchanged a few texts, mostly just Hanamaki egging him on to quit MSBY and join working at Seijoh (which Sakusa was no longer allowed to do since signing the contract with them). Sakusa did, surprisingly, meet him. “Yes, his previous position was at MSBY.”

“Oh. Hm.” Matsukawa frowned. “Is that allowed?”

Sakusa shrugged. “Apparently?”

“Well. He hasn’t been sued yet. Surprisingly. But he’s on the second floor, back office, overlooking the garden in the back. You’d recognize his desk because of the Pikachu and Snorlax figurines on his desk. It’s hard to miss.” This was such a specific descriptor that Sakusa had no idea how Matsukawa remembered it. As far as he could recall, Hanamaki had no such thing during his time at MSBY.

“I’ll have to stop by,” Sakusa said. “I haven’t seen him since the first week he left Tokyo.”

“Wow. Okay. If he was your coworker, then I guess I’ve heard a lot about MSBY…” Matsukawa’s voice trailed off, and judging by the slightly concerned crease at the edges of his mouth, Sakusa assumed that none of it was good.

Sakusa snorted. “Has he told you about his resignation email?”

Matsukawa laughed, hearty and warm, and Sakusa could see why Hanamaki liked him. He didn’t have the same intensity that Inunaki had as an executive assistant, nor did he have the same sniper-laser eye-glare that Shimizu, the HR receptionist, had. “He sent me a copy of it. I have it saved in my drafts so I can use it myself whenever I resign.”

Sakusa shook his head but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I guess I should save it, too, then.”

“Absolutely. It’s too good to  _ not _ use.” Matsukawa resumed typing on his computer for a few seconds, then turned back to Sakusa. “He takes his lunch breaks around one. I’m not sure what your schedule will be, especially if you’re working directly with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. But I’m sure he’d be more than happy to eat with you and accommodate your schedule if you can’t make his lunch times.”

Sakusa knew Hanamaki was religious about eating his lunch at the same time everyday, and he’d always come clamoring at Sakusa’s desk—if he was around—to beg him to eat with him. It was nice to see that despite the drastic changes prior to and after his departure from MSBY, some things remained the same. 

Atsumu returned from the bathroom as Sakusa nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Does my hair look better now?” Atsumu looked significantly more revived, less like a walking corpse and more like the lively bastard he always was. “Ya should’ve told me while we were in the car.”

“I did tell you.” Sakusa shoved his ID card towards him and pulled at the handle of his suitcase. “Multiple times.”

Atsumu tilted his head and blinked at him with an odd expression that made Sakusa’s skin crawl. But he didn’t say anything—not a sassy remark or a narcissistic quip—which made it infinitely weirder. “What?”

“What’s gotcha in such a good mood you’re actually smilin’?” Atsumu asked.

The smile dropped from Sakusa’s face. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it. “Stop staring.”

“Hm.” Atsumu shook out his shoulders at the same moment that a tall, lanky man in a suit similar to Atsumu’s entered the Seijoh lobby, arms wide open.

“Miya-san! Sakusa-san! Welcome!”

Sakusa recognized his voice immediately. Oikawa Tooru, external vendor relations lead at Seijoh, and based on appearances alone, he figured Oikawa would be more similar to Atsumu than himself. Oikawa whipped his head back and forth between the two of them. He pointed to Atsumu and said, “You must be Miya Atsumu.”

Atsumu straightened and accepted the extended hand. “Yes, sir.”

Oikawa smiled broadly and offered his hand to Sakusa, who shook it. Although Oikawa’s palms and fingers were soft, his grip was surprisingly sturdy. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, right? You both must be so exhausted from the trip. Hopefully you’re not too tired. You can leave your suitcases here—Mattsun, can you call Kindaichi to move them to one of the empty storage rooms? He knows where they are.” Oikawa shot a wink—an actual _wink_ —which confirmed to Sakusa that Oikawa most definitely was _not_ like himself, not a little, not at all.

Which was fine, because Atsumu seemed to be loving it.

Oikawa led them up the glass staircase, chatting the entire time about seemingly everything but also absolutely nothing. Sakusa clutched his bag against his body and hoped that they’d be working more with Iwaizumi than with Oikawa. He respected Oikawa’s experience and expertise, for sure, but he wouldn’t be able to handle eight hours of nonstop chattering.

“It’s so great to finally meet both of you. We’ve been impressed by your work so far, and all the feedback for the vendors you’ve submitted has been incredibly helpful as we reassess the quality agreements we have in place with them. I invited Terushima-san from Johzenji onsite today, but he said he couldn’t make it and committed to hosting you at Johzenji tomorrow.” Oikawa held open the door to a spacious conference room, and Atsumu stepped in first, followed by Sakusa.

“So I thought maybe today we could spend it making sure the quality agreements with Nekoma, Kamomedai, and Date Tech match your recommendations based on your knowledge. And perhaps offer you our perspective on working with Johzenji. Is that okay with you? It shouldn’t take the whole day.”

Before Sakusa could respond, Atsumu said, “That sounds great.”

Oikawa beamed, and it was only when an aggressive throat cleared that Sakusa realized they were not the only three people in the room.

“Ah! Allow me to introduce you in person. Miya, Sakusa, this is Iwaizumi Hajime, my right-hand man.”

Iwaizumi stood from his seat. He didn’t offer handshakes, nor did he offer the same charming smile Oikawa had, but he did nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you very much for traveling here.”

Atsumu shot him a cheeky grin, the same smile he gave to Meian and Barnes and anyone who was willing to put up with more than one second of his bullshit. “Thank  _ you _ for having us, Iwaizumi-san. It is an honor to finally meet ya.”

Iwaizumi, however, seemed unfazed by it, and didn’t smile back. He gave a curt nod, sat back down, and focused back on his laptop as Oikawa took to asking if they needed water. The smile faltered on Atsumu’s face, and Sakusa suppressed a laugh. For the first time since Sakusa, it seemed that there was someone else immune to bullshit.

Atsumu’s head whipped in Sakusa’s direction, and Sakusa pressed his lips in a thin line to keep from smiling. He shouldn’t have found it as amusing as he did. As he settled into one of the seats, Atsumu at his side, Sakusa found comfort that—although he wasn’t so sure about Oikawa—he could at least find solidarity with Iwaizumi.

Unfortunately, that seemed equally as true with Atsumu, who complimented Oikawa’s belt, who, in turn, complimented Atsumu’s watch, which led to a battle of who-could-out-compliment-whom for the next ten minutes.

Iwaizumi and Sakusa exchanged exasperated glances. Sakusa pursed his lips, and Iwaizumi sighed. It was going to be a long three weeks.


	9. the one with the broken down car

For the most part, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had been easy to work with; despite the tangents Oikawa was prone to spiraling off into, Iwaizumi reeled him in with a prompt, “Oikawa,” or some iteration thereof. It was quite an impressive feat, and Sakusa had to hand it to Iwaizumi: not once did he lose his cool—at least in front of Sakusa and Atsumu—but he single handedly shut down any off-topic conversation without any complaints from Oikawa.

Johzenji, however, was a completely different story.

Sakusa patted down his pockets, searching for his keys, before placing his takeout order by the foot of the door to search his messenger bag. It was day three of what Sakusa had begun to call  _ ‘hell week,’ _ although it probably would’ve been more accurate to call it  _ ‘hell weeks,’ _ plural, on account of the fact that there were still two more after this one.

The one saving grace had been Hanamaki, who made an effort to see Sakusa when Sakusa had to stop by the Seijoh office to pick up some paperwork. It was a short, five-minute interaction, but it was revitalizing in its own way. Sakusa and Atsumu would be in Sendai for another week before traveling down to Kobe for their third company during this trip, so Hanamaki promised they’d grab lunch or dinner in the days to come.

At least Sakusa had a hotel room for himself and the financial capacity to order whatever he wanted for dinner. But Sakusa found that his appetite was spoiled, and he wanted nothing more than to lie across the hotel bed. His bag weighed twice as much as it usually did due to the mess of Johzenji documents he’d been delegated to review. Delegated by Atsumu, of course, who argued that Sakusa had far more expertise and experience in procedural review. It wasn’t like Sakusa had a choice. Atsumu had pushed it onto him in front of everyone else in the room.

The comment took Sakusa by surprise, since they’d more or less fallen into a good rhythm where neither of them spoke in the car ride together to and from work, aside from one of them volunteering to drive the rental car that day. Holding each other at a distance was the responsible thing to do, since being too close to each other—as seen by the elevator incident—would inevitably turn relations sour.

So Atsumu had been the one to fuck it up. Sakusa didn’t know whether Atsumu had grown testy with him or if he was doing it on purpose, or if he was trying to rip the steering wheel of their job out of Sakusa’s hands and direct it where he wanted it to go. It wasn’t limited to Atsumu being bossy, either—while Sakusa was used to Atsumu provoking him, calling him a  _ ‘goody-goody performance-driven workaholic’  _ in front of clients crossed a line. 

It didn’t matter that Atsumu had laughed it off. The damage was done, and Sakusa had to excuse himself briefly to seethe in the isolation of polished bathroom stalls. He was pissed, but mostly, he was exhausted. Because not only were he and Atsumu partners for Seijoh and carpoolers for their commute, but their hotel rooms were side-by-side.

This wouldn’t have been so bad if Atsumu wasn’t the worst fucking neighbor ever. Sakusa could hear the music, bass heavily vibrating even along the hallway floor. If he knocked on Atsumu’s door, maybe he could intimidate Atsumu into shutting it off. Atsumu didn’t seem like the type to get intimidated, though, so it probably wouldn’t work.

Just as Sakusa grabbed a hold of his wallet, the door next to his opened. A wave of music erupted as Atsumu shuffled out in a pair of slippers and a bathrobe.

He glanced to his left and spotted Sakusa jostling the lock to open his room, takeout on the floor, and wearing a pair of pajama pants. His eyebrow cocked in amusement and his hair stuck up in funny places—so much so that Sakusa could see the dark color of Atsumu’s undercut.

Without saying a word, Atsumu turned to stalk down the hall, although Sakusa didn’t know where he was going or what he was up to. Sakusa’s eyes lingered for a split second too long on Atsumu’s calves as they flexed. How was it someone could irritate him so much from just walking? Even Sakusa surprised himself. 

Sakusa sighed, opened his door, and settled himself in for another dinner, alone.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Johzenji — Marked Index
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Please see attached index where I marked the investigation reports from Johzenji that I want to request in full. Let me know if you want to add anything.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> dude it’s 9pm. go to bed
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I’d have an easier time sleeping if you knew how to be a decent neighbor.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> sorry i’ll be quiet now
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> The music from your speakers says otherwise.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> would it help if i changed it to something you liked?
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> No.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> …fine.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> night

* * *

Disaster found Sakusa on Friday, as it often did. Sakusa was driving the course to Seijoh with minimal input from Atsumu. He pressed down on the gas pedal when the light changed, but nothing happened. 

“Omi? You gotta go.”

“I fucking know that.” Sakusa cursed as he pressed the pedal again. A pathetic grinding noise, then nothing.

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” 

A car behind him started beeping, and Sakusa flicked on the hazard lights. He tried to press the accelerator once more and once again found himself cursing his bad luck. 

“Have you tried turnin’ it off then turnin’ it on again?” Atsumu asked.

“Stop fucking around, Miya.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ around! Cars are funky like that. I had an old one that started only when it felt like it. Try restartin’ the engine—you never know.”

Sakusa huffed but killed the engine anyway, holding a breath as he attempted to restart it with the key. It wasn’t like he had any better ideas. He knew jack shit about cars.

The engine made a whirring noise, but the dashboard didn’t light up.

“For fuck’s sake,” Atsumu muttered. He ran his fingers through his hair and slumped back on his seat. Luckily, the car stalled on one of the local roads that didn’t have too much traffic, but they were still about ten kilometers away from Seijoh. 

“I guess we need to call a tow truck,” Sakusa said. He pulled out his phone. The rental car was a piece of shit, and it was something of a miracle that it hadn’t already died on them. “I’ll let Terushima know we’ll be late—”

“Wait.” Atsumu bolted upright. “You don’t need to call a tow truck for that. They take so fuckin’ long that it ain’t worth it. Lemme have a look at it.”

“Unless you know how to miraculously fix a car, Miya, calling a tow truck is our only option.”

Atsumu gave him a weird look. “I own a car, Omi Omi. Of course I know if it’s somethin’ fixable or not.”

“This is a rental car. No offense—” Sakusa privately hoped he’d take offense. “—but I don’t think tampering with it would be a great idea, seeing as we don’t own it.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna take too long. I can just take a look to see if it’s somethin’ we can fix.”

“No. Let’s just call a tow truck.”

“You’re stubborn in the mornings, y’know that?” Atsumu unbuckled his seatbelt. “But I guess that’s just how you get when you don’t get a good night’s sleep.”

“And whose fault would that be?”

Atsumu grinned sadistically. “I knew you were holdin’ back yer cranky remarks.”

Sakusa scowled. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to fuck around with the car.”

“Are you tellin’ me you really don’t know how to pop a hood and diagnose whether a problem is fixable or not?”

“I don’t own a car,” Sakusa said, embarrassed at how defensive he sounded. 

“There you go.” Atsumu unlatched his seatbelt and moved to open the car door. “If anythin’, I’d call the rental place and see if they have a policy that covers at least some of the towing expenses, and if they can give us a new rental while they fix this one up.”

Sakusa pursed his lips. He still didn’t feel comfortable with Atsumu potentially wrecking the car, but Atsumu had already scrambled out of his door on the passenger side, and he was in the process of loosening his tie, removing his suit jacket, and rolling up his sleeves.

“I ain’t a genius with cars,” Atsumu said through the open door, “but I can at least letcha know if this shit is gonna take a while. We might wanna see if they can just order a tow truck for us and take it off our hands while we take a cab.” He leaned in to carefully drape his jacket over the back of the passenger seat, then his tie.

Sakusa chewed the inside of his cheek. This was the first time he’d seen Atsumu without his typical full-suit without the glow of alcohol surrounding his perception, and Sakusa was furious that he looked just as good as he remembered.

As Atsumu moved to the front of the car, Sakusa opened his email to notify Terushima and Oikawa first before dialing the rental car company. The phone rang as Sakusa tried to see what Atsumu was messing around with, but the hood of the car was propped up, so he couldn’t see what Atsumu was doing.

Moments later, Atsumu came around to tap on Sakusa’s window. Sakusa opened the door, phone still pressed to his cheek. “What?”

“Who’re you callin’?”

“Car rental company. But I’m on hold right now.”

“Nothin’ looks terrible.” Atsumu leans against the car door, fingers muddled with dark grease. Sakusa’s nose scrunches at the sight. “Battery’s prolly on its last leg. All we gotta do is jump the engine to get it goin’.”

Sakusa stared at Atsumu as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second and third head. “I have no idea how to do that.”

“It’s easy. All you gotta do is—”

Sakusa cut him off by abruptly raising his hand as the line finally sprang to life. “Hello, this is Ubugawa Motors. How may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m calling because my rental car stalled. I was wondering if you have services to help us out?”

A faint keyboard typing in the background almost aligned perfectly with the rhythm Atsumu tapped against the car’s roof. “Of course. May I have a full name, date of birth, and license plate of the rental?”

Sakusa rattled off the information as Atsumu waited patiently, picking at the grit underneath his fingernails.

“And what’s the issue with the car?”

Sakusa paused. “Um. It’s not moving?”

“Can you give me a description of any specifics?”

“One moment, please.” Sakusa looked at Atsumu with a pained expression. “He’s asking for what’s wrong with the car.”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look before pulling the phone from Sakusa’s hands. Despite his greasy fingers, Sakusa didn’t protest. “Hiya. The car cranks when you put the key in. I think it might be a battery problem.” Atsumu paused. “As far as I’m aware, no light went off on the dashboard, and I checked the fuel pressure and sparks plug. Yes, sir. No, I don’t think so.”

Sakusa leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes as Atsumu went off on the phone about whatever he’d diagnosed. This situation was better than being stuck in a broken elevator with Atsumu, though not by much. 

“I was thinkin’ if we can jump it—” Atsumu waited as Sakusa heard a muffled voice erupt in a frenzy on the line. “Ah. Okay. I see. Alright, I understand. My partner and I have somewhere to be soon, which is why I wanted to avoid callin’ someone to help with it if I could just fix it in five minutes given the right equipment.” Another pause. “Yes, okay. No problem. Thank you. We’ll be waiting, sir.”

Atsumu passed back Sakusa’s phone after hanging up and walked around the car to sit back in the passenger side seat. He kicked his feet up on the dashboard and yawned. “They said they’re gonna have one of their employees drive a replacement rental car for us, and they’ll take over the maintenance from there. We ain’t too far from one of their rental sites so it should take fifteen minutes, top. I guess this kinda thing happens a lot.”

Sakusa shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced at his phone again. “That’s fine, I guess.”

Atsumu hummed while scrolling through his phone, and Sakusa sat in silence, watching the lone pigeons bob along the sidewalks. 

“I’m surprised you ain’t got a knack for cars, Omi-kun.” Atsumu broke the silence with commentary, as usual. “Ya seem like the level-headed type of guy who’ d wanna do everythin’ himself.”

“Like I said before. I don’t own a car.”

“Yeah, but dontcha think it’s important to know how to assess the basic problems that happen to cars?”

“No.” Sakusa reached behind them to grab his bag. He pulled out the last of the reports he’d planned on reviewing this week and uncapped his signature red pen. 

From his peripheral vision, he could see Atsumu watching silently as Sakusa picked up where he’d left off. It was mildly distracting and he began to feel a bit self-conscious about it. It took him three passes to read through one paragraph before he huffed. “Do you mind? It’s hard to focus when you’re staring at me.”

“You’re really doin’ work? Right now?” Atsumu’s voice vibrated with incredulity. “Right here?”

“Some of us have—”

“Have a job to do, yeah, yeah, I know. That’s like, the one thing you hafta say all the fuckin’ time.”

“I’m too busy being a goody-goody performance-addicted workaholic to think of anything better to add.”

Sakusa froze. He’d blurted it out accidentally.

Atsumu’s eyebrows raised in surprise, then in amusement, then in—something. Sakusa didn’t know what to make of it. “So that  _ did  _ piss you off. I knew it.”

Atsumu’s smug tone set Sakusa off once again.

“If you knew that,” Sakusa snapped, “then why’d you say it?”

“It wasn’t an insult.”

“You said it like it was.” Sakusa’s mouth twitched with the urge to let him have it once more. Something about enclosed spaces—the elevator, this car—brought confrontation to head. Perhaps it had to do with Sakusa’s repressed anger at everything Atsumu said, and the claustrophobic environment did little to unleash it. Therefore, Sakusa concluded, he was bound to implode. “You said it in front of our clients, too, which is wholly inappropriate and unprofessional.”

“It was a joke, Omi Omi. Lighten up.”

“I don’t care if it was a joke. You shouldn’t have said it.” Sakusa fixed his eyes on the page in front of him. “You shouldn’t say most of the things you say.”

“Hm. I said it to you once and I’ll say it again, Omi-kun—maybe you’re just used to sayin’ too little.”

Sakusa inadvertently shot Atsumu the dirtiest look he was capable of. Atsumu faltered for a moment, taken aback at the expression. 

“Gee. I didn’t think that’d bother you that much.”

“When have I ever,” Sakusa snapped, “made it seem like I enjoyed any of the offhanded comments you make?”

Atsumu elapsed in silence. He picked at his nails, still coated in grease, and looked as if he wanted to say something multiple times. Sakusa turned back to his report, but his annoyance distracted him and he gave up, shoving it back in his bag. “I’m doing my best to be patient because we’re not just working with people at MSBY. We’re dealing with people outside of our company. All I ask is a bit of respect in return.”

Atsumu’s face hardened. “Respect?”

“Yes, respect. I don’t care what you think about me, and I don’t care what you think about yourself.” That was a lie. Atsumu’s self-absorbed nature pissed Sakusa off to no end, but that was something outside of his control. “If you’re going to be a dick, don’t do it in front of clients.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I don’t care if it was supposed to be a joke or if you were trying to…whatever you were trying to do. It’s ridiculous. You need to stop doing that.”

“Since when are you the expert on interpersonal relations, Omi Omi?” Atsumu’s voice sounded thin and strangely calm.

“I’m not.” Sakusa turned as a car pulled up behind them. He opened the car door. “But at least I know I’m not.” He slammed the door shut, effectively closing the conversation, and tried not to think too much about the image of Atsumu without his suit and stupid tie, fingers coated in grease.

* * *

While they did manage to get another rental car and make it to Johzenji without being too late, whatever routine Sakusa and Atsumu had adapted seemed to fall apart. Everything came apart in shambles, fragmented by mutual disdain and irritation. This came to head with Atsumu constantly interrupting him and Sakusa passive aggressively—or maybe active aggressively—sending Atsumu instant messages to shut up.

Terushima—the Johzenji director that spent the entire week hosting Sakusa and Atsumu onsite—didn’t seem to notice, which was a relief. He was just as chaotic as Sakusa had expected, complete with wild hairstyles, a tongue piercing, and a voice that didn’t know how to adjust for indoor or outdoor situations.

As they wrapped up the week’s activities, Sakusa sent Hanamaki a text.

> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> Drinks and dinner?
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> sorry man i got a date tonight! maybe next weekend?
> 
> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> You? Date? Since when?
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> since i came to seijoh
> 
> if u catch my drift
> 
> :)

Sakusa shook his head in disbelief. Hanamaki had a few affairs that Sakusa had known about during their shared time at MSBY. Sakusa heard about them from Hanamaki because Hanamaki was absolutely the oversharing type of bastard who would talk too much about his various sexual escapades. After that, Sakusa avoided the ninth floor lounge room and couldn’t mentally prepare himself for sitting on any of the couches in the entire office complex.

Hanamaki had been involved exclusively with people from different departments, and as far as Sakusa knew, none of them had been serious. Sakusa, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine ever getting romantically or sexually involved with a coworker, even if they didn’t directly share the same office space. Hanamaki didn’t seem to stress too much every time he saw any of his exes—or whatever they were called—in passing, and, in fact, remained friendly with all of them.

> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> Good to see that your habit of questionable workplace relationships has carried over from MSBY.
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> what can i say i have a thing for cute receptionists

Sakusa pocketed his phone and hefted his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you for your time this week,” he said as he stood. Terushima stood up alongside him and nodded. Despite the mess that his company boasted of, at least the guy was nice. “We’ll be in touch about any further documentation we’d like to go over in the next couple of weeks.”

“Yes, of course.” Terushima extended his hand and Sakusa accepted it. “Thank you both for your patience as we did our best to support you. Feel free to shoot me any emails or give me a call if you have any follow up.”

“We will.” Atsumu materialized next to Sakusa within the blink of an eye. Since this morning, he’d thoroughly scrubbed the grime off his fingers and reinstated his tie and jacket. If Sakusa hadn’t seen him this morning slightly disheveled, he never would have guessed this guy got his hands dirty.

The two walked out of the conference room and exited Johzenji’s building. The new rental car—though it could hardly qualify as ‘new’ considering that it was even older than the previous car—was the only car parked in the visitor’s lot. Sakusa offered Atsumu the car key, which Atsumu accepted without any protest.

“If you don’t mind,” Atsumu said as the car locks clicked open, “I’m going to take the car tonight. Meetin’ up with a couple friends for dinner. I’ll be back before midnight so you can use it tomorrow if you want.”

“Tomorrow?”

Atsumu glanced at him over the top of the car, a funny expression on his face. Sakusa ignored it and got into the passenger’s seat. “Saturday?”

“Right.” Sakusa had forgotten that the weekend had quickly approached them. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Ya seem to forget that you’re not in Tokyo anymore. You’re gonna need a car if you wanna get anywhere. Unless you’re plannin’ on orderin’ from the same restaurant you’ve been gettin’ food from the past week.”

Sakusa’s cheeks heated—he wasn’t sure how Atsumu noticed. The restaurant down the street from the hotel had already grown familiar with his face, but it was the only non-convenience-store food service place that didn’t require a car.

This was part of the reason why Sakusa hated being anywhere except the city. Getting anywhere was a nuisance. 

“Okay. You can just knock on my door, and I’ll take the key from you. Or I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Atsumu paused, as if he were going to say something more, but when Sakusa glanced over, Atsumu merely pressed his lips into a tight line and remained wordless the entire way back to their hotel.

* * *

Sakusa’s otherwise peaceful night was disrupted when his phone went off.

He groaned. After eating dinner, he’d turned on a movie and fallen asleep about ten minutes in—the clock flickered a dim  _ 1:02 AM _ on his nightstand while he fumbled around for his phone. He squinted at the caller ID and stopped.

**Incoming Call** : Miya Atsumu

_ What the fuck?  _ Sakusa silenced the call and rubbed at his eyes—he hadn’t even brushed his teeth, so he supposed there was one upside to it. Right as Sakusa stood up and stretched, his phone went off again.

**Incoming Call** : Miya Atsumu

“Fuck off, Miya,” Sakusa said out loud. He stumbled towards the bathroom to wash up, ready to collapse back into bed.

**Incoming Call** : Miya Atsumu

**Incoming Call** : Miya Atsumu

**One New Voicemail From** : Miya Atsumu

For fuck’s sake.

Freshly scrubbed and fully dressed in his pajamas, Sakusa switched the phone to speaker mode as a garbled sound erupted in a manner that could only be described as ‘unpleasant’.

“O-o-o-o-mi. Please call me.” Atsumu didn’t sound like himself. His words slurred together, and he sounded way too whiny. In the background, Sakusa could make out the classic noises of a nighttime bar, complete with clattering of dishes and utensils and frequent bouts of uninhibited laughter. “Please. It’s an emergency.” 

Sakusa hesitated. Atsumu sounded drunk, which wasn’t his problem, but right when he moved to place his phone back on its place on his nightstand, it went off again.

**Incoming Call** : Miya Atsumu

Sakusa sighed.

He picked up the call. “What do you fucking want, Miya? It’s past one.”

“Omi Omi. You picked up.” Atsumu sounded muffled for a moment before the background noise began to fade away. “Sorry. It’s  _ loud _ in here.”

“Why did you call me? I’m about to go to bed.”

“I needja to do me a favor.”

“Your favor can wait until tomorrow—”

“I got too drunk.” Atsumu drew each word slowly out of his mouth, further emphasized by his Hyogo drawl. “I can’t drive home.”

_ “What?” _

“It was an accident, I promise. Promise, I didn’t mean to.”

“If you were going to be drinking, you shouldn’t have driven there anyway.”

“Now, now, Omi Omi. That ain’t a way to be speakin’ to yer coworker.” Atsumu giggled over the phone. Seriously. The fucker  _ giggled. _ “That ain’t professional.”

“Get one of your friends to drive you home.” Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not your fucking chauffeur.”

“They’re all drunk. Believe it or not, I think I’m the most sober. But I’m not sober. I’m drunk. I thought about leavin’ the car in the parkin’ lot here and just callin’ a cab back, but I think it would get towed.”

Sakusa was at his wit’s end.

“ _Please_ come get me. Otherwise I’ll…I’ll…” Sakusa waited for Atsumu to finish the sentence. “I might pass out in the streets and die here. Who knows.” 

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Sakusa muttered.

“Hey. I heard that. Sounded like you actually meant it.” 

Sakusa glanced at the clock again. His body ached from a week spent hunched over his desk, and he craved nothing more than the sweet release of uninterrupted sleep. 

But there wasn’t much he could do, was there?

“Where are you right now?”

“You’ll come get me?”

Sakusa knew he’d regret this. “You’re paying for my cab ride there.”

“I knew I could count on ya, Omi-kun. I’ll send you my location.”

“Try not to die before I get there,” Sakusa snapped. He climbed out of bed—his warm, comfortable bed—and grabbed his sweatshirt and a jacket as he opened a drawer to find a pair of clean socks. He pulled his scarf from the shelf and angrily wrapped it around his neck. “And don’t fucking wander off somewhere else. I’m not going to play a game of wild goose chase in Miyagi tonight. If I show up and you’re not around, I’m driving the car back myself, with or without you.”

“How’re you plannin’ on doin’ that without the car key?”

“Fuck off.”

Atsumu laughed again and said, “See ya soon, Omi Omi.” The line went dead, and moments later, his phone went off once more.

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> hereer i amammmmmmmmmmm
> 
> _Miya Atsumu has shared their location with you._

Sakusa wanted to scream. It was a thirty minute drive away.

This son of a bitch owed him one. And then some.


	10. the one with the 2am drive

By the time Sakusa arrived at the small izakaya Atsumu went with his friends, it was nearly two in the morning. He stepped out of the cab, yawning, and found Atsumu slumped on one of the benches in front of the bustling restaurant, arms crossed, head tilted to the side.

Sakusa approached and stuffed his hands in his pockets, tucking his chin into his scarf. It was cold and a bit windy out, and Atsumu definitely wasn’t wearing enough clothes—he had a peacoat over his suit and very little else. 

Sakusa kicked at his leg. “Hey.”

Atsumu stirred before elapsing into a stillness again.

Sakusa kicked him again. “Miya. Wake up.”

Atsumu jolted upright, blinking as he shivered and rubbed at his arms. The tip of his nose was bright red. “Huh?”

“Give me the car keys.”

“Omi Omi. You made it.” Atsumu jostled his pockets, taking especially long to procure the car key. He handed it over, fingertips brushing against Sakusa’s palm, cold and chapped. Sakusa frowned—he hated when people failed to maintain their health, although he supposed it was a bit hypocritical of him. “I was wonderin’ when you’d finally show up.”

“Why are you outside?” Sakusa glanced in the restaurant, where there were still late-night drinkers lounging at the tables. “You should’ve waited inside. It’s cold out.”

“It got too warm so I stepped out for a breather.” Atsumu stood up and stretched before tucking his hands in the inside of his coat. Sakusa flinched at the overwhelming smell of sake—or maybe it was soju—and took a step away. “I guess I ended up dozin’ off for a bit.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Hm? They should be home by now, I think.”

Sakusa frowned. He began walking to the parking lot, where he could see their rental car waiting. Atsumu stumbled after him. “They just left you here?”

“Yeah, they got families to go home to, y’know? So I couldn’t keep ‘em here too long. They offered but I told ‘em not to. It’s rude of me to keep ‘em longer than necessary.”

“They should’ve waited,” Sakusa mumbled. “Or you should’ve waited inside. Or you should’ve gone with them and I could’ve driven the car to get you. You could’ve left the key with the hostess or something.” 

Atsumu merely shrugged.

Sakusa wanted to say more, but it wasn’t like Atsumu was his friend, and it wasn’t his place to comment on the Atsumu’s friends’ lack of social competencies. Besides, it was possible that maybe Sakusa was too spoiled and had expectations far too high for the average twenty-something-year-old. He was used to Hanamaki walking him home at night, or Komori waiting outside with him for the cab. Most nights, even when Sakusa was the first to leave a bar, at least someone accompanied him to make sure he was all set to get home safely. “That was irresponsible, Miya. You could’ve gotten in trouble.”

“What kinda trouble are you gettin’ in if you’re tellin’  _ me _ to be careful?” Atsumu giggled again. “Omi-kun, don’t tell me you’re the one pickin’ street fights on yer nights out.”

“I never get wasted enough to pick street fights.”

“Then you’re not goin’ out right.”

“I’m not the one driving myself out on a weekend night and then getting so drunk that I can’t drive home.”

Atsumu pointed at him and grinned. “You got me there.” He tripped over his own foot as he struggled to walk in a straight line, and Sakusa reached forward to steady him before he realized what he was reflexively doing. Sakusa frowned at himself and quickly drew his hand back; Atsumu didn’t even notice. It wasn’t often that Sakusa had to deal with drunk assholes who couldn’t even keep their feet straight. “I didn’t mean to drink that much. I promise. Semi was the one provokin’ me.”

“You let yourself get provoked.”

“Hey.” Atsumu whipped a head in his direction. “You’ve never been provoked by Semi, so you wouldn’t get it. Just wait till you get provoked by someone like him.”

“I get provoked by you everyday.”

“Kinky.”

Sakusa sighed, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car, Miya.”

“Wow,” Atsumu commented. “Chivalry ain’t dead.”

“Just get in the fucking car.”

Atsumu lifted one hand to his forehead, nearly smacking Sakusa in the face with a sloppy mock salute. Sakusa narrowly dodged it with a jerk backwards as Atsumu got into the passenger seat and collapsed back, cranking the chair so it was nearly horizontal. “Ah,” Atsumu said. “Feels nice. I wanted this for so long.”

Sakusa slammed the door shut and shivered as he made his way around the car to climb into the driver’s seat. He cursed under his breath, hating how he’d been bundled up and warm no more than half an hour ago. This was all Atsumu’s fault, and tomorrow, Sakusa’s body would suffer the consequences from sleep deprivation.

He slammed the driver’s door shut and started the engine, which only provided a blast of frigid air blowing through the vents, and he noticed Atsumu wincing at it.

Sakusa sighed.

“Here.” Sakusa unraveled his scarf and held it out towards Atsumu. At least Sakusa had a proper jacket and thick socks. “You’re an idiot for not wearing more. Don’t you have a warmer coat? Or a hat or something?”

Atsumu didn't respond at first. His heavy lidded eyes widened as he stared.

Sakusa huffed, but it came out more like a snarl. “Take the fucking scarf, Miya.” The heater slowly kicked in, but the air was still chilly. The spot on Sakusa’s neck where he’d taken off the scarf felt cold.

“I know I’m really drunk right now,” Atsumu said, “but even drunk this is weird.” He laughed again, albeit a bit nervously, and Sakusa had an urge to fling the scarf right into his face so he stopped talking. Thankfully, Atsumu tentatively picked up with careful and slow hands. He continued to stare at it for a few extra moments, as if he had to confirm what it was. 

“You’re a moron.” Sakusa rubbed his hands together and waited until the vents became slightly warmer. He typed in the address of the hotel and stuck his phone against the cheap holder Atsumu had brought with him. “I cannot believe you’re hanging out in the middle of Miyagi without even a proper coat.”

“Had to look good.” Atsumu wrapped Sakusa’s scarf around his neck and stuck his hands in it as he hunched over. Stupid. He was so stupid. He could’ve at least worn an actual winter coat instead of a self-indulgent flashy jacket that wouldn’t last a minute in snow; winters in Miyagi were less forgiving than in Tokyo, and Sakusa had come fully prepared. Maybe Atsumu didn’t own a winter coat, since he never bothered wearing one to work. “Haven’t seen ‘em in a long time.”

“Who?”

“Ex-coworkers. Used to work for Shiratorizawa Corp,” Atsumu said. “Y’know them. They’re in Miyagi, workin’ with Seijoh for some shit. They all wear fancy as fuck suits and the like, so I always had to keep up with ‘em.” Sakusa nodded along. That sort of explained the suit thing, although it didn’t explain why Atsumu continued to wear them every fucking day at an office like MSBY where people showed up in less-casual-than-business-casual wear. “I was there only for a year though. Culture there was nuts—they’re some of the craziest bastards I ever worked with.” He glanced at Sakusa. “Almost as crazy as you are. Though you’re prolly the craziest.”

Sakusa put the car in reverse to pull out of the parking lot and finally return to the hotel. “You’re not exactly the most sane person in the world. You should’ve just taken a cab here and crashed at your friend’s place.”

Atsumu buckled his seatbelt—it took him about four tries to click it in properly—and jabbed a finger in Sakusa’s direction. “I’m hearin’ a lotta ‘ _ you should’ve, you should’ve _ ’ statements from you. Reminds me of my mom.”

“Because you don’t do a lot of things you should.”

“Hah! Be careful. You’re startin’ to act like you’re worried about me.” Sakusa rolled his eyes as Atsumu shifted and lay on his side as much as the tiny car would allow, which wasn’t the easiest feat. His knees bent at an uncomfortable angle, and he let out a burp. “‘Scuse me.”

“You are disgusting.”

“Hey. That sounded like you actually mean it.”

“I do.”

“You say a lot of things, dontcha?” Sakusa followed down the windy roads, extra cautious due to the darkness and unfamiliarity with the area. “I think you mean most of what you say, but I dunno if I should be offended by it or not.”

Sakusa ignored him.

“I’m not gonna lie; I thought you were gonna hang up on me when I called. Actually, I didn’t think you were gonna pick up at all, and I was ready to just let a tow truck handle my car and pay for it tomorrow.” Atsumu yawned. “I’m glad you did, though. It was a nice surprise. You’re always full of surprises, Omi Omi.”

Sakusa’s face warmed. Atsumu was full of surprises, too, though he found most of them to be quite unpleasant and painstakingly irritating.

But other ones confounded him, like the visual of Atsumu tucking one arm under his head as he struggled to get comfortable in the passenger seat. He wasn’t wearing his tie, and his clothes had taken on the same rumpled appearance Sakusa received a glimpse of at the company happy hour. Atsumu refused to show up to work like that. Sakusa thought that it would do Atsumu some well to be more lenient on his appearance, since he admittedly looked hot both ways.

Whether Sakusa wanted to admit it or not, these visuals—of Atsumu at the happy hour, Atsumu dirtying his hands in order to assess the car, even Atsumu in his bathrobe and pajamas as he passed him in the hotel hallway—did a terrible job of enforcing the image of Atsumu that Sakusa had crafted in his mind over the past year of knowing him. He wasn’t just Atsumu-the-office-brat anymore. He, like most people, existed beyond the confines of work.

It was almost easier to flatten him that way into a two-dimensional caricature that Sakusa could bitch about fearlessly to anyone who was willing to lend an ear. It meant Sakusa knew how to deal with him and how to avoid him. He knew what to expect from Atsumu and what shortcomings Atsumu had, both as a coworker and as a rival. 

It made Atsumu less of a wild card. In Sakusa’s life, wild cards weren’t welcome. He went by routines. Patterns. Procedures. Sakusa was too busy keeping up with the rest of his chaotic work life anyway; therefore, surprising or uncertain variables were almost always a negative thing.

Yet here was Atsumu, the guy he hated the most, looking—dare Sakusa think it—kind of cute. In a drunk, messy, and stupid way. The same way puppies were after rolling around in mud. Not that Atsumu was a puppy.

Sakusa wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“Can I talk to you?” Atsumu broke the silence. His words had the slightest taper around the edges; not quite sloppy nor slurred, but enough to make it clear to Sakusa that Atsumu had definitely had too much to drink. “Or wouldja kick me outta the car?”

Sakusa snorted. “Even if I tell you no,” he said, “you’ll do it anyway.”

“Fair. So is that permission?”

“No.” 

“I’m feelin’ a little generous with my honesty tonight,” Atsumu interrupted through another yawn. “So. I’ll say this just once. I think you’re prolly gonna beat me. Just sayin’.”

Sakusa spaced out for a brief moment in stunned silence, realizing with a jolt that he needed to pay attention to the road. He turned his head to make a turn, and from his peripheral vision, he saw Atsumu watching him. Or studying him. Or something like that.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m givin’ up. I would never.”

“You’re definitely wasted,” Sakusa said, although he felt a strange flood of—embarrassment? Flattery? Is that what this was?—wash over him. He figured that hell would freeze over before Atsumu would willingly admit that Sakusa was a threat to him. It turned out it only took a night of binge drinking for this circumstance to arise. “Because you would never say that sober.”

“Maybe I would.” Atsumu’s words were muffled by the fabric of Sakusa’s scarf. “Maybe I’d say it if you weren’t so damn prickly all the time.”

Sakusa glanced to the side. Atsumu was still staring. He didn’t flinch or look away, nor did he bother hiding the fact that his eyes were fixed on every twitch of Sakusa’s face. There was more there, tucked away under the simple words Atsumu spoke to him, and if Sakusa had been anyone else, he might have asked.

He might have asked—both himself and Atsumu—what intentions were at play here, simmering under every look that they exchanged. This went beyond a petty rivalry—that much Sakusa knew. Beyond that, he didn’t know. “I don’t think you would.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.”

Sakusa held back another protest and focused more than necessary on making a right turn. “What about me is prickly?”

“You mean beside all the stink eyes ya give to anyone who dares to speak in the office?”

“I don’t give anyone stink eyes.”

“You’re givin’ me stink eyes right now.”

“This is my normal face.”

“Well, yer normal face is normally givin’ people stink-eye.”

“This is the face I’ve been born with—”

“Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile for real,” Atsumu interrupted. “I guess there was that small one from earlier at Seijoh. But that was rare. Usually it’s like somethin’ crawled up yer ass, stole yer pleasant demeanor—assumin’ it even existed—and died there.” Half a beat of silence. Then, “No offense.”

Sakusa frowned so hard his brow bone hurt. “I smile all the time.”

“I’ll accept that statement when I actually see it. Hell, you’re frownin’ right now.”

“You only see me at work.”

“We ain’t at work right now.”

Sakusa pursed his lips. They weren’t at work at all. And that was the problem.

He was grateful, then, that the roads were dark and he couldn’t see Atsumu too well. He was afraid of what he might say or what his eyes might give away if he let them wander. Even bundled up in Sakusa’s scarf, Sakusa was drawn to Atsumu’s appearance. Without fail, it pulled him in, but he resisted.

“You don’t smile at work. Or if you smile, it’s those cranky ones that look like you’re fuckin’ constipated.” Atsumu scoffed. “Those are the ones you give to people who piss you off but you’re too much of a ‘professional’ to say anythin’ about it.”

“It’s work. I have to be professional. I don’t have a choice.” Sakusa shifted in his seat, fiddling with the heating dials to get the car warmer. He knew what rebuttal to expect:  _ you always have a choice. _ Still, Sakusa barrelled on. “Besides, nothing at work has ever been worth smiling over.”

“Maybe you’re just so busy bein’ stressed that you don’t see things worth smilin’ for, Omi Omi. And that’s something you gotta fix on yer own.” Atsumu yawned again and smacked his lips. “Fuck. I’m drunk. And thirsty. But mostly drunk. Fuck.” Atsumu drew out the word as he smacked his lips again, scrunching his nose at the sound, and Sakusa could practically hear the dehydration festering across Atsumu’s croaky vocal cords. He sighed and reached over towards the glove compartment. Atsumu flinched in response, as if he actually expected Sakusa to smack him.

Sakusa sent him a flat look before popping it open and fishing out a bottle of water he’d brought with him. “Here.” 

Atsumu stared like he had with the scarf, but this time with more suspicion than surprise. Like he couldn’t believe Sakusa was capable of committing a kind gesture. “Eh? Where didja get this from?”

“I brought it.”

“What didja do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything to it. It’s just water. Drink it.”

“I have a twin brother, y’know.”

“I’m well aware that you have twin brother.”

“I know how these kinda things go. You can’t fool me. Samu used to do all this dumb shit to me to piss me off. Playin’ all nice. Then  _ bam. _ It tastes like shit, and I wanna vomit.”

“I can guarantee that I would never give you anything that would make you vomit in our rental car.”

“If I take  _ one sip _ ,” Atsumu emphasized as he snatched the bottle from Sakusa’s fingers, “and it tastes like vinegar, I’m suin’ you.”

Sakusa could feel his brain cells dying from this conversation, but somehow, by some miraculous feat of strength, pressed on. “Good thing there’s no vinegar in here. You can’t afford to sue me, anyway.”

Atsumu made a retching noise and startled Sakusa so badly that the car veered to the side. Sakusa cursed and jerked the car back into the lane. “Miya—”

Atsumu stuck his tongue out. “Heh. I was kiddin’. I don’t actually gotta throw up. I wanted to see what you would do.”

Sakusa groaned. He was tempted to open the door and kick Atsumu’s ass to the curb, but that would open a lot of questions that he’d need to answer eventually. Atsumu swayed a bit as he took careful sips at first, a slightly confused look on his face as if he actually expected it to taste like vinegar. “If you’re going to throw up, wait until you get to your hotel room. I’m not helping you clean it up.”

“Hey, Omi.”

“What?”

“D’ya think you’ll beat me? Honestly.” Atsumu jerked upwards, wavering as he twisted around searching for the seat handle to prop himself back upright. When he leaned his head against the seat, he blinked several times before a satisfied smile curled across his lips. “Whoa. Okay. Sittin’ up is better for my head.”

“Beat you at what, exactly?”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about. You’re not a dumbass.”

Sakusa chewed on his lip. He wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be the turning point of Atsumu and his working relationship, or if Atsumu was attempting to hijack his self-confidence and get him to admit the truth: that Sakusa was just as afraid at losing as he was at winning. Neither should’ve inspired that much fear, but it was more than just a job title or pay scale on the line. 

It felt like, in some ways, this was supposed to be a milestone for him. The peak of his twenties. The biggest shift out of—as Suna had once said—office bitch into office boss. Sakusa had spent the better part of the past year working hard to prove his worth to his team. Even when some of them would belittle him for being boring or question why he did things with ridiculous precision, Sakusa knew he was doing his job well and he had nothing to answer for.

The most terrifying thing of all this, however, was Sakusa having the self-awareness to know that it was more than ‘just a job’ to him because his job had become his life. For better or for worse. Part of him knew that he was spiraling down—had spiraled down, a long time ago, actually—into becoming a  _ real _ workaholic, if he wasn’t one already. Winning a promotion would only enforce that; losing a promotion would rip away the one thing Sakusa had going for him.

The most honest answer fell across his tongue before he could stop it. “I don’t know.”

Atsumu hummed.

“Let me ask you this, Miya.”

Atsumu tilted his head at him.

“Do you really think I’m a ‘goody-goody performance-addicted workaholic,’ or are you just being an asshole every time you say something like that?”

“Uh.” Atsumu paused to consider. “Yes.”

Sakusa snorted. He didn’t know why he even bothered asking. “That’s not a proper answer.”

“Guess it’s kinda both. As you’re well aware, I’m a jackass. I admit that. But you’re as emotional as a potato, so sometimes it’s nice to see any range of feelin’ from you.” A potato? That was the best descriptor Atsumu could think of? “Even if you’re just bein’ annoyed or pissy at me. It’s better to see that than to only interact with you like you’re a robot.”

“I see.” Sakusa tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Or tired. You look more tired than annoyed, I think. Actually, but any time I’m around you, you look kinda annoyed. Like I’m most annoyin’ out of everyone around you.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“And I guess I never really knew what annoyed me about you, since you get along with Taka-san so well.”

“Hanamaki?”

“Yeah. I saw the two of you together all the time gettin’ lunch and talkin’. It was almost weird. Around him you’re…normal. I didn’t get it at first since you’re polar opposites of each other.” Atsumu took another generous swig of water before fumbling to screw the cap on the bottle. “Makes no sense.”

“Hanamaki gets along with almost everyone.”

“Yeah.” Sakusa glanced over at Atsumu, only to be met with his startlingly intense gaze. “But you’re that type that gets along with almost no one.”

Sakusa didn’t know what a proper response to that would consist of. It seemed to him that ‘getting along’ with someone had layers, and Atsumu and Sakusa had vastly different interpretations of what it meant. To Sakusa, ‘getting along’ with his coworkers meant nothing more than being polite and respectful, the two things that Atsumu lacked. To Atsumu, ‘getting along’ with someone must have meant something else.

Atsumu, in other words, spoke a whole other language and boasted of an arsenal with vocabulary that Sakusa wasn’t even familiar with. He couldn’t tell if it was that he didn’t understand it or if he didn’t understand Atsumu.

“I get along just fine with people.”

“In yer own way. Prickly.”

“I swear to fuck, if you call me prickly one more time—”

“But I think you’re nicer than you give yourself credit for. Or I guess you’re at least nicer than I give you credit for. For some reason. I mean, you drive out here to get my ass. And you gave me yer scarf.” Atsumu yawned again. He began flipping through radio stations, the tinny music barely audible through the piece-of-crap speakers that sounded worse than the quality of metro car speakers. Even drunk, he never sat still. “I think someone like you could benefit from being friends with someone like me.”

Sakusa snorted. ‘Friends’ was a loose term, then, because Atsumu wasn’t just ‘someone’—he was a coworker, a rival. A pest. “That’s pretty bold of you to say when you’re the one inconveniencing me by dragging me out of bed to pick you up from a bar that you got too drunk at.”

“ _ Hey. _ ” Atsumu jabbed another finger in his direction. “That was rude.”

“Getting me out of bed was rude.”

“Wouldja rather me getcha into bed instead?”

Sakusa made a vague choking noise, and Atsumu burst out laughing. “Holy shit, yer face! Are you dyin’, Omi Omi?”

Sakusa winced. “I wish,” he mumbled. His face felt warm. It must have been the heater. He turned it down and shook his head as Atsumu continued laughing his ass off. “You are so drunk, Miya.”

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. I’m a dumbass, and I’m prolly gonna feel like shit tomorrow. Ah, well. Not the worst thing I’ve ever been.” Atsumu shot a lazy grin at Sakusa, who saw it only when he glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes were hazy, drooping down with each time his head bobbed down. “But you already know that.”

Sakusa pursed his lips. He had a lot of things he wanted to ask Atsumu—and a lot more that he wanted to  _ say _ —and Atsumu’s current state of mind made an interesting opportunity for him. But the one question that came to mind was one Sakusa had been thinking about the past couple of weeks. “Do you think I should really quit my job?”

“When did I say that?”

“In the elevator.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot I said that, actually.” Atsumu cleared his throat—or at least tried to; it sounded more like he was hacking up a lung. “I dunno. Do you wanna?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.”

“But you’re talkin’ to me about it. So you must be thinkin’ about it at least a little.”

Sakusa shrugged. He’d definitely thought about it, although it wasn’t like he viewed quitting his job as a viable option. Looking for a new job was a possibility that was always open to him, but quitting his position out of sheer spite and frustration hadn’t occurred to him. “I mean I haven’t thought about quitting. Anything.”

“Hm. I didn’t know that. But that totally checks out. No wonder you’re always grindin’ after the workday. I’d bet my drunk ass that you go by tasks and not hours, am I right?” Sakusa didn’t say anything. His wordless response was more than enough of an answer. “Ever occur to you that it might not be the most sustainable or healthy thing to do?”

“I’ve been sustainable and healthy for the past several years I’ve been working, Miya.”

Atsumu scoffed. “Then why do you look like a walkin’ corpse when you come into the office building every mornin’? Or whenever I see you come outta yer hotel room. I swear to fuck, it’s like you’re actually disintegratin’ under the beautiful mornin’ sun. You’re the embodiment of—what was it?—‘remember and die.’”

Sakusa sighed. He didn’t know why he was asking Atsumu. Sakusa wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Whatever he needed, Atsumu wouldn’t be able to give that to him, so why did he even bother?

“So you don’t quit nothin’, do ya?”

“No.”

Atsumu snickered. “Then considerin’ how spitters are quitters, I bet I can guess what you are.” And, of course, he fucking giggled. Again.

“Miya.”

“Definitely  _ not _ a spitter.”

“I will throw you out of this car.”

“It was a joke! I promise I’m not—”

“I will kick you to the curb and make you walk twenty kilometers home.”

“—bein’ serious or nothin’.” Atsumu laughed as he relaxed back in his seat again. “It’s too easy pressin’ yer buttons. I kinda get a kick outta it.”

Sakusa threw him a withering look, but Atsumu didn’t even notice. His eyelids fluttered shut, and even in the dim lights of the street lamps lighting the car, Sakusa could see his eyelashes, lined thick and straight. “But you’re prolly nice,” Atsumu mumbled. Moments later, he began snoring, leaving Sakusa with much to think about.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> sorry about yesterday
> 
> shouldn’t have gotten wasted
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Yeah. You shouldn’t have.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> thanks tho. i appreciate you coming to get me
> 
> i’ll make it up to you
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I doubt it.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> RUDE
> 
> but for real name your price and i’ll pay

Sakusa squinted at his phone, not sure if he was reading it correctly. His eyes felt dry from lack of sleep. Once he and Atsumu had returned back to the hotel at two-thirty in the morning, Sakusa had to physically shake Atsumu awake from his drunken slumber. Furthermore, Sakusa had to help Atsumu open his door, since bleariness had him struggling to select the right key to unlock it. Sakusa had snatched the key out of Atsumu’s hand, irked when Atsumu bumped into him trying to open it himself.

It was only after Sakusa had jiggled the lock open that he stepped out of the way, pocketing the key into Atsumu’s jacket as he passed, and Atsumu gave another messy salute before ambling into the hotel room. Atsumu had shut the door behind him without a word—not even a  _ thank you _ or an apology of any sort, and Sakusa figured that was sort of forgivable considering his state of mind.

Unfortunately for Sakusa, he’d stayed up far longer than he anticipated. He replayed his conversations with Atsumu in his mind—in the elevator and in the car—and wondered if there was a grain of truth to his words. His mind fell into the uncontrollable abyss of, once again, overthinking things, but overthinking brought very little value when it left Sakusa feeling confused and dissatisfied.

Sakusa, for a brief moment, thought about asking Atsumu how hungover he was. He typed in the message, but paused to reconsider before promptly deleting it. There wasn’t exactly room in their working relationship or official rivalry to be having casual conversations—though they’d sort of crossed that line last night.

Instead, Sakusa typed one message and sent it before he could second-guess himself, burrowing himself into his blankets once more for another couple hours of much-needed rest.

> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Let me think about it.


	11. the one with the day off

Midway through the following week, Sakusa had a one-on-one check in with Meian through phone—ad hoc, of course, because with Meian, things were always ad hoc. Inunaki had instant-messaged Sakusa to let him know Meian wanted to give him a quick five minute call, and Sakusa responded right away. Less than a minute later, his phone rang and he excused himself from the room.

Atsumu noticed him leaving but didn’t say anything, focusing his attention on Narita. His legs protested after spending most of the day sitting on his ass, and Sakusa stretched them out as he picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Sakusa speaking.”

“Sakusa! Thanks for taking my phone call. I was hoping either you or Miya would respond.” Sakusa subconsciously straightened his posture. “Just wanted to check in with you to see how Seijoh’s vendor review was going. I’ll give Miya a call later. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.”

“Things are going smoothly, I presume?” Meian asked.

“Yes.” Sakusa was surprised to find that he actually meant it. “We’re on track to hit our midway-milestone by the end of next week.”

“Yeah, Oikawa told me. He was surprised that you managed to get through Johzenji’s muck within a week—and impressed. Said he expected it to take at least seven business days. I have no idea how you did it, but I’m not complaining, and neither is he.” Sakusa exhaled a sigh of relief. They’d gotten it done because he worked overtime, but he supposed that he always got things done that way, so it wasn’t worth mentioning to Meian. “Good work, Sakusa.”

“Thank you. Johzenji was a bit messy, but their support onsite was very accommodating to our requests.”

“As they should be. And Karasuno?”

“They’ve been easy so far.” Karasuno had systems that were a bit archaic—including two overflowing filing cabinet rooms that were as disorganized as they were cramped—but Sakusa liked Narita’s level-headed, calm demeanor. It was a welcome contrast to Terushima. “I think we should wrap it up by tomorrow, actually.”

“Good. Take Friday off, Sakusa.” Meian hummed. Sakusa blinked in surprise. He hadn’t had a day off in—forever, actually. “Don’t worry about your MSBY workload. Washio—the EJP consultant who took on your peer review—is doing a damn good job of it. I have half a mind to maintain a contract with him even after you return to the office.”

“Ah.” In all honesty, Sakusa had sort of forgotten about that. Submitting a list of his office responsibilities—like reviewing his coworkers’ reports—to Aran felt like a lifetime ago, not a couple of weeks. “I’m not surprised. When Aran had me read through some of his reports prior to finalizing the agreement with him, he seemed very thorough.”

“As thorough as you. Even if it’s just part-time, I’m sure it’ll take some stress off your plate.”

Sakusa nodded before remembering Meian couldn’t see him. He leisurely strolled down the hall, running a hand along the railing that overlooked the atrium. “He works well with Bokuto?”

“Phenomenal. Man of few words, but he’s been patient. I know Bokuto’s writing is, uh…flavorful. Doesn’t seem to bother him.”

Sakusa’s lips twitched up. The mention of Bokuto made him realize he kind of—even just a little—missed being around his coworkers. He’d never thought of them as anything but a nuisance, from Bokuto’s constant exclamations to Kageyama and Tsukishima constantly bickering, from Adriah’s provocations and to Hinata’s oblivious chatter. This business trip, so far, had been a welcome break for Sakusa from his usual office routine. But Sakusa must have grown accustomed to being surrounded by them that the sudden absence made his typical work life seem a bit empty. “I’m glad.”

“Oikawa said you’re traveling to Osaka next?”

“Yes.” Sakusa grimaced at the anticipated travel—they’d be back in Tokyo on Saturday, then on Sunday, they had tickets to go to Osaka. “We’re headed to Inarizaki.”

“Inarizaki, hm…I’m not as familiar with them, but from what I’ve heard, they’re a fast and growing company. Be diligent.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how is it working with Miya?”

Sakusa glanced back towards the conference room. Since he’d gone out of his way to pick him up from the bar, Atsumu had been incredibly nice to him. It was almost weird. Actually, no—it was  _ definitely _ weird, and Atsumu hadn’t said anything questionable or rude in the past few days. It was different from before, when Atsumu and Sakusa barely spoke to each other through tight lips. No, Atsumu was—dare Sakusa say—considerate and polite.

“We clashed a bit at first,” Sakusa admitted. “Our personalities are a bit different.”

Meian barked a hearty laugh, and the sound made Sakusa flinch. He pulled the phone away several centimeters and could still hear it light as day. “So I’ve seen. That’s an understatement, Sakusa.”

“But I think we figured out how to work together.”

“He hasn’t driven you crazy yet with his brash personality?”

“No, not yet.” Sakusa huffed a laugh. “It’s…going well.”

“I know I must’ve surprised you by putting you two both on Seijoh’s contract, but I wanted to see how you both would work with each other despite your, ah…differences.” Meian laughed again. “I’m glad it’s going better than I expected it to. Listen, I’ve got to go now—another meeting with the Adlers—but be sure to let Inunaki know if you need anything from MSBY. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell Miya that I want a call with him, too, and to let Inunaki know when he’s free.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, Sakusa. Good luck and see you back in the office soon.”

“Thank you.” Sakusa hung up the call and frowned a bit. Meian hadn’t mentioned the promotion at all, but he couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of test—that he and Atsumu were being pitted against one another—because with Meian, there was always some sort of sly thing going on. Meian was about as honest as a director was allowed to be, and that was pretty much it.

He shook his head as he walked back to the conference room. It didn’t matter. He, as always, had work to do.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Please see attached for my portion of the draft report. Send along yours when you can.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Here you go.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> What the hell kind of font is this.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Ah shit sorry I forgot to change it. See attached for appropriate formatting.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> You write your reports in THAT?
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Leave me alone it helps me focus when I write them.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I have no words.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Don’t forget to block out tomorrow on your calendar so no one bothers you.
> 
> And stop emailing me it’s 8PM.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> You’re the one that keeps on responding.
> 
> Don’t tell me what to do.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Your calendar still ain’t showing out of office yet.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Why are you stalking my outlook calendar. Leave me alone.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

Appointment Invitation

**From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : TAKE THE FN DAY OFF LOSER

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> What is this.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Now all you gotta do is accept it. You’re welcome.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Karasuno — Draft Report
> 
> Miya—
> 
> No.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> why are you still online 
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> get off your laptop
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> also wtf accept my meeting invite
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> See previous correspondence for my answer: no.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> HAH.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> funny.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I’m just going to review your draft.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> are you serious dude? do it later
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> and take the heckin day off tomorrow
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to use the one without the atrocious font choice and sizing.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> EXCSUE ME

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> BITCH
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Why are you texting me.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> i can’t call you bitch on IM
> 
> also in case you didn’t see i LOGGED OFF
> 
> because i have BALANCE in life
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Good for you.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> i’ll get you lunch tomorrow
> 
> because i still owe you for last week
> 
> or dinner
> 
> or whatever
> 
> breakfast if you want
> 
> or
> 
> whatever
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Lunch would be nice.

* * *

Sakusa couldn’t remember the last time he had a day off from work where he had the day to himself. In the past, his paid time off was reserved because of events that he had to go to, not because he wanted a break.

What did people even do on days off? It wasn’t like Sakusa had any errands or house chores to do, since he was staying in a hotel. Last weekend, Sakusa had mostly worked, anyway, to prepare for his assessment of Johzenji, but  _ that _ was complete now, and so was Karasuno. He could’ve probably taken a look at Inarizaki’s profile again, but Meian was the one who suggested he take time off in the first place.

As Sakusa was getting ready for bed the night before, he figured letting himself sleep until whenever he wanted was a good place to start. After being heckled by Atsumu, Sakusa changed his status to  _ offline _ to review Atsumu’s report and combed through it quickly, nodding off in the middle. He shut off his alarm and passed out at ten, stunned when he flicked on his phone the next morning to see that it was almost noon. 

He’d slept like the dead. Usually, he’d wake up a few times a night from anxiety and the sudden panic that he’d forgotten to do something. His stomach grumbled and he wondered if Atsumu was planning on bringing him takeout or what. Sakusa reached toward his work bag slung haphazardly over the chair and pulled out a half-eaten granola bar he’d opened yesterday.

Sakusa was in the midst of texting Komori when an intense banging startled him, sending granola bar crumbs flying across the pristine white hotel sheets.

“Omi Omi, rise and shine. It’s almost noon and you haven’t responded to my message, so I bet you’re still sleepin’.”

Sakusa sighed as he brushed the crumbs off his bed as best he could, forcing himself up to shuffle to the door. He’d seen Atsumu’s text and ignored it (because what the hell was a proper response to “uwu”?). He assumed it was some sort of exclamation that meant ‘sure’, but he wasn’t entirely certain.

Sakusa opened the door, blinking at the harsh lights of the hallway. “What?” he said.

Atsumu’s hand was still raised to knock on the door, and he blinked in surprise—then confusion. “You look like death.”

“Thanks.” Sakusa looked down at his clothes, which consisted of ratty pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt that Komori had gifted him with the words  _ PUBLIC MENACE  _ scrawled across the chest (Komori always did get him the weirdest things). His hair probably looked like a mess, more like a nest of tangles rather than a groomed crop of curls. “I just woke up.”

“Uh. Yeah. I can see that.” Atsumu, on the other hand, looked clean, polished, and—most importantly—wide awake. Sakusa’s mind registered that Atsumu wasn’t wearing a suit. Actually, Sakusa had never seen Atsumu in anything but business-formal. “It’s almost noon, Omi-kun. What are you, a uni student?”

“It’s a day off,” Sakusa said, defensive as ever. “What time did  _ you _ get up?”

“Eight. I thought you were one of those early risers, too.”

“I am during the work week.”

“Hah. Nice to see that you’re normal.” Atsumu cleared his throat. “Uh. I said I’d getcha lunch. I guess it would be more like breakfast for ya. But if you’re not ready—”

Sakusa’s stomach grumbled, audible to even Atsumu. His face warmed. “I’m hungry.”

Atsumu grinned. “I’ll wait in the car for you then. Meet me in five.” He gave Sakusa another once over. “Uh, maybe fifteen.”

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed. Atsumu merely laughed at his expression as he headed back to his room next door. “Or you can just text me when you’re ready.”

Sakusa watched as Atsumu slid back into his hotel room, disappearing past the door. Even when he was dressed down, he looked good. It was unfair. He wasn’t even wearing anything special, just a black jacket over a hoodie and a well-fitted pair of jeans.

Sakusa retreated into his room once more to take a hot shower in an effort to be at least semi-presentable. The cold of Miyagi crept away from his bones as he stood under the hot steam, and his sluggish mind processed exactly what was going on: he had a day off. He was going out to lunch. With Miya Atsumu. What a strange fucking turn of events that were only made possible because Sakusa had dragged Atsumu’s drunk ass home from the bar.

_ I think someone like you could benefit from bein’ friends with someone like me. _ That’s what Atsumu had said. But what, exactly, did that mean? Atsumu was drunk when he’d said it, too, so there was a fair chance that 1. Atsumu was talking completely out of his ass, and 2. Atsumu was too drunk to even remember suggesting anything like that.

Either way, Sakusa was hungry, and if he was going to get a free meal out of his kind gesture, he wasn’t about to complain. Sakusa wasn’t one to overthink appearances, so he pulled out whatever casual clothes he had packed and made sure to slide his gloves into his jacket pockets. Sakusa reminded himself to be as normal and casual as possible—to stay polite, to maintain professionalism—but, deep down, he knew it would be easier said than done.

By the time he arrived at the car, Atsumu was already seated in the driver’s seat, heat blasting. The irritable music that Atsumu was prone to listen to blasted through the car’s low-quality audio system, and Sakusa scowled as he reached to turn down the volume.

“Only took you ten minutes,” Atsumu commented. “I thought it woulda taken longer, because of how exhausted you looked.”

Sakusa buckled the seatbelt in, and it was only when he lifted his head that he noticed his scarf folded neatly in between them. 

“Ah. Thanks for that. Sorry I didn’t give it back to you sooner.” 

“Oh.” Sakusa had forgotten he’d even given it to him in the first place.

“I cleaned it and all, so you don’t hafta worry about none of my germs gettin’ on you.”

“Thank you.” Sakusa wrapped his scarf around his neck and tried not to let the oddly thoughtful gesture bother him too much. He chewed at his lips as a thick silence settled between them. It wasn’t like the silences before, which were tense. This one was  _ awkward. _ And probably because neither of them knew how to be pleasant with each other. 

Sakusa tried, as best as he could, to remain level, to not give any of his discomfort away. “What do you want to eat?”

Atsumu’s eyes lit up as he tapped around on his phone screen before showing it to Sakusa. “My brother recommended this place. Said a friend of a friend owns it. Taiwanese hot pot.”

The mention of hotpot made Sakusa’s stomach pang. “Is it close?”

“Yeah, only ten kilometers.”

“Alright.”

Atsumu put the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, but not before glancing over towards the passenger side. For a moment, Sakusa thought he was blocking the view, but he quickly realized that it was because Atsumu was glancing at him.

Weird.

They didn’t say a word as Atsumu drove them with measured turns. Atsumu didn’t attempt to make conversation, and Sakusa almost said something a few times, but nothing really came to mind. Because what  _ could  _ he say? They had no common ground aside from being young, driven men in their twenties. It wasn’t like Sakusa could ask him about Atsumu’s personal life, nor would asking about work do any good, considering that they had the same fucking job.

So Sakusa stared out the window at the Sendai skyline as they drove across a bridge over a river. He’d grown up in Tokyo, so the countryside was unknown territory. So was whatever weird silence elapsed in the car. Sakusa wondered what was going on in Atsumu’s mind. Was he overthinking this as much as he was? Was this some sort of peace treaty or offering to negate all the disagreements they’d gone through together?

“Do you wanna eat here or do takeout?” Atsumu asked as he killed the ignition and grabbed his phone. Sakusa peered at the quaint restaurant that sort of looked like a glorified hut, but in a cozy sort of way. 

“Uh.”  _ Did _ Sakusa want to eat here? With Atsumu? Alone? Together?

“I dunno if you got plans today or somethin’. Or if you need you’re beauty sleep.” Atsumu stepped out of the car and Sakusa followed. 

He really was not great at this.

“I don’t mind. Dining in.” Sakusa slammed the door shut and Atsumu nodded. 

“Cool.”

_ This is so weird. _

Atsumu led the way and if Sakusa had half a mind, he’d snatch the key from Atsumu’s hands, get in the car, and drive away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all, and yet something pulled at Sakusa. He felt compelled to follow after Atsumu into the building. He allowed Atsumu to hold the door open for him. He stepped to the side when Atsumu said, “Could we get a table for two, please?”

Sakusa slumped into the seat. The past fifteen minutes felt like fifteen hours.

“You’ree pretty quiet, Omi-kun.” Atsumu wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes skimmed the menu as he flipped back and forth between pages.

Sakusa smiled politely at one of the waiters who brought a steaming kettle of tea. He grabbed for the cup in order to have something to do, and sipped at it tentatively. “I’m always quiet. Like you always say.”

“Hm.” Atsumu looked up at him, then, and it startled Sakusa enough to jolt his cup and spill some scalding hot tea on his fingers.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?” Atsumu’s brow furrowed as he squinted. “You look kinda outta it.”

Sakusa patted his fingers dry on his napkin and tried to quell the heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m fine.” 

Atsumu paused and looked like he wanted to say more, but ultimately thought better of it. “Okay.”

Sakusa almost preferred the biting remarks they exchanged. Insults came more naturally off his tongue than whatever faux-niceties they were exchanging. Sakusa tried not to think too much about what this said about him as a person. 

After placing their order, Sakusa pulled out his phone and opened his email, just to make sure nothing bad had happened. His inbox was full, of course, but there was nothing in it that screamed urgent. He placed it, face down, on the side of the table, and when he lifted his eyes, he caught Atsumu staring. “What?”

Atsumu had his hands clasped on the table, leaning his weight a little forward, and tilted his head. His inquisitive stare pulled the hairs on the back of Sakusa’s neck straight up. Atsumu’s brows were slightly pinched, lips pursed.

“Stop staring,” Sakusa said, but it sounded more like a request than a demand.

“I ain’t gonna lie to you, Omi-kun.” Atsumu popped his lips as he considered his next words. Sakusa waited for him to complete his thought, and it took at least thirty seconds until he finished, “This is kinda fuckin’ weird.”

Sakusa heaved a sigh of relief. For some reason, having Atsumu acknowledge it made it a little bit more bearable. Like Sakusa wasn’t stuck ignoring the elephant in the room. At least he wasn’t the only one thinking that, although it was hard to believe Atsumu could ever let something like uncomfortable interpersonal relations bother him. “Yeah. You’re right about that. This is weird.”

“Ain’t it? I didn’t think you’d wanna cash in on my owin’ you. But you continue to surprise me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sakusa murmured.

The left side of Atsumu’s mouth curled up, cheek bunching up in a sly smile.

Sakusa swallowed.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t know you were spontaneous.”

“Are you sure? Because you said that to me.”

The smirk immediately fell and confusion quickly replaced it. “Huh?”

“Last Friday.”

Recognition flickered across Atsumu’s face, and his mouth formed an  _ O  _ shape. “Last Friday. You mean when I was drunk outta my fuckin’ mind.”

“You were very, very drunk.”

“So  _ I’ve _ been told.” Atsumu picked up his chopsticks and played with them in his fingers. For some reason, Sakusa had a flashback to Atsumu on the floor of the elevator, making shapes with his hands in the aggressive light of the flashlight coming from his phone. Sakusa caught himself staring a little too much at Atsumu’s fingers.

“I guess first things first,” Atsumu said in between twirls of his chopsticks to stir the soup. “I ain’t gonna say this again. But I mean it when I say it. Thanks for comin’ and gettin’ me. You didn’t hafta do that at all. I ain’t sayin’ I didn’t expect you to show up because you’re an asshole. I didn’t expect you to show up because I dunno many people who’d put up with that bullshit for some guy they don’t even like.”

Sakusa snorted, but his cheeks warmed. “You’re welcome.”

Atsumu’s nose scrunched in embarrassment. “The fact that I really thought I wouldn’t get too drunk when goin’ out with people like Tendou and Semi was my first mistake. My second one was thinkin’ I could get away with drivin’ myself there and back.”

“Add that to the running list of mistakes you make.”

Atsumu snorted. “Always keepin’ me humble, dontcha?”

“Someone has to do it.”

At that, Atsumu erupted in a hearty laugh. Sakusa suppressed the smallest of smiles that itches his lips. He paused momentarily from speaking when their food arrived, steaming and fragrant and reminding Sakusa that he hadn’t had anything besides curry and donkatsu for the past week and a half.

“So,” Atsumu continued as he pulled his napkin onto his lap, “I dunno about you, but I’m kinda gettin’ tired of this dancin’ around on our toes.”

“Dancing on our toes?” The image of Sakusa and Atsumu as ballerinas flashed through his mind. Is this how Atsumu’s off-work brain functioned?

“It’s a figure of speech, Omi Omi. I feel like you’re real good at talkin’ about it without talkin’ about it. It’s an olive branch,” Atsumu said. He pointed his chopsticks in Sakusa’s directions, which made Sakusa frown. “I know I say a lot that pisses you off and vice versa. But maybe if we pissed each other off less than both of us would stop bein’ in sour moods, which would make us less likely to piss each other off even more.”

Sakusa’s head spun as he tried to follow Atsumu’s winding sentences. He picked at the vegetables in his soup as he considered Atsumu’s proposition. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sakusa finally said. “We’re up against each other for a position that we both want, Miya. Nothing about this is a good set-up for a competition where one of us has to lose.”

“Nothin’ like friendly competition to keep things interestin’, right?”

“It’s better if we just maintain professionalism and—”

“Professionalism, blah blah blah, whatever. Hate to break it to ya, Omi Omi, but ya broke professionalism when ya came to haul me over from the bar at two in the fuckin’ mornin’.”

“It’s not like you really gave me a choice.”

“The choice is always there.” Atsumu raised one eyebrow. He carried himself with lethal confidence that translated even without an over-the-top suit. Dressed in his casual clothes, Atsumu didn’t look like a consultant. Sakusa found himself needing to look away, and focused extra hard on stirring the vegetables in the broth. Even amidst the awkward pretense and the strange limbo they were stuck in, Atsumu radiated a comfortable self-awareness that, strangely, Sakusa felt like he lacked. “I don’t make friends at work.” Sakusa sipped on the soup, tangy and spicy and warm in the pits of his stomach. “It’s work, not a playground.”

“That’s such bullshit. You’re friends with Gin.”

“Gin’s not really my coworker. You know that.”

“Yer friends with Taka-kun.”

“That’s different—”

“No it ain’t, Sakusa. You’re just tryna come up with excuses.”

Sakusa chewed on his noodles slowly. Atsumu didn’t seem to be offended that Sakusa wasn’t readily accepting his offer, which was a good sign. His words sounded genuine enough, although Sakusa couldn’t help but wonder if Atsumu had some sort of ulterior motive. 

Sakusa wanted to offer Atsumu the benefit of doubt. He really did, and he’d seen that Atsumu wasn’t  _ all _ just talk, just  _ mostly _ talk. But he hesitated. His sudden kind gesture of picking up Atsumu, coupled with Atsumu’s sudden kind gesture of treating Sakusa to lunch, wasn’t without a price. What that price was—well, Sakusa hadn’t figured that out yet.

Even if—and this was a big if—Atsumu  _ was _ invested in getting to know Sakusa more, both as a coworker and a “friend”, Sakusa was sure this would come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Why do you care?” Sakusa asked. He made sure to soften his words and opted for direct communication that could maybe pass as casual. Or, a more appropriate question would be: “What do you want?”

“What do I want? You mean besides expandin’ my network of office friends to make it a bit of a nicer place to be in for myself?” Sakusa frowned at Atsumu’s terrible table manners. A lone noodle hanging from his mouth dripped soup onto his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Not everythin’ is about wantin’ somethin’.”

“Isn’t it always?” Sakusa muttered.

“If you’re thinkin’ that way, that’s awfully cynical of you.” Atsumu shrugged as he picked up his spoon to slurp at his soup. “It’s up to you. I’m just offerin’ ‘cause I notice Taka-kun was your main friend. I dunno how much that bothers you, but…”

“I have more friends than just Hanamaki.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Sakusa’s eyebrows pinched and he was embarrassed that the first name that threatened to jump from his lips was  _ Komori. _ But Komori wasn’t even his friend. They were related, so that didn’t really count. “I have friends outside of work—”

“ _My point is_ ,” Atsumu interrupted. He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms. “My point is this, Omi Omi: I ain’t tellin’ you how to run yer work life anymore. That ain’t my job, and I tried givin’ you sound advice _I_ learned from workin’ just like you do.” Sakusa snorted. Hell would freeze over faster than Atsumu would ever offer ‘sound’ advice. “But if you don’t wanna take it, that’s fine. I just thought I’d offer.”

It still didn’t answer Sakusa’s questions about why he was offering, and he almost pressed Atsumu more on this. But Atsumu diverted his attention back to his lunch, interest in the conversation lost. 

When the silence between them grew uncomfortable again, Sakusa almost wished he’d taken Atsumu up on that offer. Yet still, he said nothing.

* * *

To his credit, Atsumu didn’t push Sakusa. They parted ways when returning to their respective rooms, and Sakusa spent the rest of his day off keeping himself busy, somehow. He worked a little and went on a run and called his parents, caught up with Komori, and even managed to catch Hanamaki for one last dinner before they parted ways. He fell asleep after cleaning the hotel room and packing up his belongings, only to be woken up the next morning with Atsumu banging on his door.

Atsumu slept the entire train ride back to Tokyo, head drooping to the side. It was the weekend, so he didn’t wear his suit, but Sakusa  _ did _ catch a whiff of cologne that didn’t go unmissed. When they arrived at the station and returned to the familiar Tokyo streets, Atsumu motioned for Sakusa to get in the car.

He dropped Sakusa off at his apartment with a wave of dismissal as his car peeled away from the curb, and Sakusa could finally breathe. He had twenty-four hours to mentally prepare himself for one last week of business travel.

Atsumu remained cordial when he texted Sakusa about driving him back to the train station for the trip to Osaka. He remained cordial during the three hour train ride. He remained cordial as they picked up the car rental and commuted to their hotel.

Cordial, always cordial. That was what Atsumu chose to be, and Sakusa knew—deep down—that it bothered him. Yet he didn’t say anything, because what was there _to_ say? ‘ _Hey, I prefer when you’re an asshole to me_ ’ didn’t seem quite right.

So Sakusa let him be. If he decided to commit to all-or-nothing, and if he wanted to stay on one side of the spectrum instead of where they’d been before, that was fine.

That all changed, however, when Sakusa and Atsumu walked into Inarizaki on Monday morning. Inarizaki was a clean, modern building, with tall ceilings and wide windows and minimal decor. Atsumu trailed on his heels and nodded when the front desk receptionist dialed Akagi Michinari, the manager they’d been in touch with.

Akagi arrived moments later, dressed in jeans and a loose button down, with wild hair that stood straight up and a roguish smile to match. He wasn’t alone: beside him stood a man of slight build with dual-toned hair that hung in his piercing eyes. Khaki pants and a cardigan.

Sakusa immediately concluded the following: Akagi was friendly. The second man most likely was not.

“Good morning, Sakusa, Miya. It’s nice to finally meet both of you in person. I take it that travel wasn’t too much of a hassle?” Akagi reached out to shake Sakusa’s hand, and when Sakusa glanced over at Atsumu, he saw that Atsumu had a funny, dumbstruck expression on his face. “This is Kita-san, the director of our client affairs. He won’t be directly hosting you, but he wanted to introduce himself.” 

Kita’s outfit didn’t quite scream  _ director _ to Sakusa, but he found it a bit nice to see someone without the same level of flair as Atsumu.

“Good morning,” Kita said.

“Shinsuke.” Atsumu blurted the word before turning bright red and stiff as a board. “Um. Kita-san. It’s been a while.”

“Miya.” If he was affected by Atsumu—the same way Atsumu appeared to be affected by him—Kita didn’t show it. “Yes. It’s been a while. I hope you’re doing well.”

Sakusa’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how Atsumu knew Kita—although he was also from Osaka, what were the chances he already knew one miscellaneous director at a company they were going to be working with for the next week?

Kita extended a hand to Sakusa. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, right?”

“Yes.” Kita’s hands were slightly chill to touch. His grip was firm, though, and he maintained eye contact the whole time Sakusa shook his hand. It was kind of unnerving. “We look forward to hosting you.” Kita stepped back. “Akagi, I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Of course. Please, follow me!” Akagi led Atsumu and Sakusa to the right of the Inarizaki lobby, and from the corner of his eye, Sakusa could see Atsumu’s gaze chasing after Kita as he wandered off. Sakusa frowned. Atsumu’s usual M.O. included a bunch of flattery and charismatic nonsense, not tightening so bad that Sakusa could see the vein popping from his neck. Not staring wistfully after a mysterious and intense director at some random company in Osaka.

“Shinsuke?” Sakusa murmured.

“Shut the fuck up, Sakusa.”

Atsumu’s biting tone took Sakusa by surprise. Atsumu didn’t look at Sakusa, although he did swallow, thick and audible. Akagi spoke enthusiastically about the set up that they had put in the conference room to host them, but Sakusa didn’t pay attention. He walked side by side with Atsumu—not so close that they were touching, but close enough that all Sakusa had to do was shift his eyeballs to the left to see him.

Gone was the flamboyant demeanor. Somehow his face hardened with a mix of dread, irritation, and anguish, yet at the same time, Sakusa saw something he had not seen in him before—a crack of vulnerability.

Perhaps there was far more to Miya Atsumu than Sakusa had realized.


	12. the one with the explanation

Atsumu was distracted, and it pissed Sakusa off.

Sakusa clenched his fists in frustration. They’d been at Inarizaki for three days, and Atsumu hadn’t been very useful the entire time. Sakusa would notice his eyes drifting every time someone else was talking, and he lost track of how many times Atsumu said, “Uh. Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch all of what you said.” His head would turn to the door, as if expecting someone to walk in, and his series of errors came to head when he completely forgot to pack his laptop on Wednesday morning. Sakusa had to turn around halfway through the commute to Inarizaki.

Atsumu hadn’t bothered to elaborate, although it was clear why he was acting out. Kita sometimes stepped into the room to provide oversight explanations for some questions Sakusa had. During those times, Atsumu was even more embarrassing to witness, constantly tripping over his tongue. 

Sakusa was used to taking the lead on projects. He was not used to Atsumu giving it to him by complete and utter omission of responsibility.

“We were planning on updating our internal investigations policy to include the oversight of subcontractors,” Kita said. “The one Akagi’s passed on to you is a little outdated; at the time, the only outsourced services we contracted were quality-related, ironically.” He sat with one leg crossed over the other, nursing a mug of tea in his hand. Sakusa could smell the oolong and found it quite relaxing. He enjoyed working with Kita—and Akagi, too—so he had no idea why Atsumu was staring at Kita as if he were willing himself to spontaneously combust.

“You don’t have a separate one for vendors contracted through Inarizaki?”

“No, we don’t have many vendors. Our external affairs usually deal with clients, not subcontractors.”

Sakusa nodded as he made notes on his laptop, glancing up quickly to see that Atsumu hadn’t moved for the past five or so minutes.

“Miya.”

Atsumu whipped his head in Sakusa’s direction.

“Do you think you could accompany Akagi-san to bring in hard copies of all the investigation reports and corrective action evidence?” Sakusa desperately needed Atsumu to get it back together. He was getting tired of running this as a one man show. He was also getting tired of Atsumu opening his mouth to start saying something only for him to send panicked SOS signals in Sakusa’s direction. “From the last three years.”

Atsumu stood up and nodded. Compliant Miya Atsumu—that’s something Sakusa thought he’d never see.

“It won’t take too long,” Akagi said. “We preemptively scanned and printed the last two years, so you can come grab those while I have the rest of my team retrieve the rest and I can bring it to you.”

“Thank you,” Sakusa said. He shot Atsumu a glare—anything to get him to snap out of whatever funk he was in—but Atsumu didn’t spare him a glance. He left the room with quick steps.

Sakusa pursed his lips. Kita waited patiently for him as he skimmed the contents of the index provided. He wasn’t sure what drove him to say, “I apologize about Miya. He’s usually not as absentminded. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him today.” _Today,_ as if Atsumu had been functioning properly the past three fucking days.

Kita didn’t even blink. “There’s nothin’ to apologize about, Sakusa-san. Miya and I go way back.” He placed the mug on the table and readjusted his seating. 

Sakusa wanted to ask how he knew Atsumu, but Kita’s frank manner of speaking communicated—to him—that anything unrelated to work should not be discussed.

“I think that’s all for now,” Sakusa finally said. “We’ll take a look at Inarizaki’s noncompliance events and the subsequent files, but I’ll let Akagi-san know if we need anything else directly from you or anyone on your team. Based on the index, it looks like none of them are related to Seijoh, so it’ll most likely be a sampling rather than a thorough review.”

“Thank you.” Kita stood up. He wasn’t that tall nor was he particularly large, but something about his presence was intimidating. It was his eyes, Sakusa decided. Kita didn’t look like a young and powerful director, but he certainly looked like a powerful all-knowing being. Like he was watching everything carefully. “I’m quite pleased with how this is going so far. You and Miya make a good team.”

Sakusa suppressed a snort. More like he was the team and Atsumu was the observer, but whatever.

Kita excused himself with a curt nod and a wave of the hand, leaving the smell of oolong tea to dissipate in the conference room. Sakusa slumped over the table with his head in his hands. When he glanced at the clock, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was already four. They’d wrap up soon, and Sakusa could review documents from the comfort of his bed at the hotel.

The door creaked open minutes later. 

“Can you get yourself together?” Sakusa snapped. “You’ve been in a funk since we got here.”

Atsumu didn’t respond. He held a small filing box and dropped it on the table before plopping down in his seat. Atsumu heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize. Just stop…doing that.” Sakusa gestured at Atsumu to hand him the box, and Atsumu slid it across the table. “You’ve been spacing out the entire time we’ve been here. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop doing…that.” 

For the first time since they arrived at Inarizaki, Atsumu looked at Sakusa. Sakusa didn’t think Atsumu was capable of a complex emotion to save his life, but there was a tinge of humiliation coupled with pain that made Sakusa feel a little bad. “I’ll do my best,” he said in a tight voice.

Sakusa began pulling out documents, organized in chronological order. A lot of questions tickled his tongue—the same ones he’d been tempted to ask Kita—but he’d already rejected Atsumu’s offer of friendship or whatever. Whatever happened between Atsumu and Kita—whatever fallout or trauma that transpired and thereby caused Atsumu to become as useless as a fish out of water—wasn’t his business.

Except it kind of was, because it was impacting Atsumu’s performance.

“If you need to call the rest of the day out sick—” Sakusa started.

“I don’t need to do that,” Atsumu interrupted, but it sounded forced. “I’ll, um. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Sakusa nodded, wordlessly passing along the three reports with similar problems. Atsumu accepted it, and his troubled gaze lingered on Sakusa for just a moment longer than necessary, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. If Sakusa had pressed him, then maybe, Atsumu would have elaborated on what was going on in his head. 

But that wasn’t any of his business.

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> What are you doing
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Working.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> But it’s late
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Don’t you ever take a break
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I’m trying to get ahead.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> And you are distracting me.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> But you don’t need to get ahead
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Yes I do.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Especially because my coworker hasn’t been the most efficient these days.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Ahahah sounds like a shitty coworker
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Did you eat already
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Yes.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Ok
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Wanna drink
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Miya. It’s Wednesday.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Also, I’m WORKING.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Lol as if that ever stopped you

No sooner had Sakusa typed in, _Leave me alone_ , and sent it before a knock came at his door. Sakusa sighed as he pushed his chair backwards. The hotel room in Osaka was bigger than the one in Sendai, but the walls were thinner, and so were the doors—which meant that Atsumu’s incessant banging couldn’t go ignored.

Sakusa opened it. “What do you want?”

“That’s yer standard greeting these days.”

“Well. I’m busy. So you must want something if you’re interrupting me.”

Atsumu had ditched his suit jacket and tie, crisp-button down wrinkled and hanging out of the waistband of his pants. He looked like he’d taken a nap in his work clothes, or at least rolled around in bed in them. “C’mon, Omi-kun. Let’s take a break.”

“You’ve already been on a break.” Sakusa moved to slam the door shut. “Goodbye.”

A stubborn hand caught the door well before the door swung shut. Sakusa pressed his weight against it, shoulder flush against the cold wood, but Atsumu held it open with nonchalant ease. Amusement curved his lips up in a smile. 

Sakusa cursed as he gritted his teeth. He was in shape and strong, and it kind of pissed him off that Atsumu was stronger.

“Omi Omi.”

Sakusa stopped struggling the moment Atsumu’s playful demeanor evaporated.

“Please.”

Sakusa never thought he’d hear the word ‘please’ pass through Atsumu’s lips.

He sighed and glanced over at his desk, work laptop still open. He’d been midway through one of last year’s reports, and he hated leaving things halfway done. But when he looked back at Atsumu pushing his hair to the side with distress pinching his features, Sakusa felt bad.

“Fine. But we’re not going far.”

“I’ll buy you a drink. The lobby bar has good cocktails.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you already know that.” Atsumu stuck his head through the doorway as Sakusa retreated to pull on a sweatshirt and grab his wallet. Sakusa flicked his computer off and stuck a post-it note on the last paragraph he read as Atsumu’s eyes analyzing the entire room.“What are you staring at?”

“Yer room gets more light than mine. I think cuz it’s a corner room.”

“And?”

“That’s unfair.”

“Not everything is a competition, Miya.”

“I wanted a corner room,” Atsumu muttered, but Sakusa ignored him. He’d already dressed into his standard out-of-office outfit—sweatpants and a Komori gifted t-shirt—and slid his feet into a pair of slides. “Y’know, Omi, I always thought you’d be wearin’ business casual attire all the time. You got that kinda personality that made me think that you sleep in slacks.”

“I’m not you,” Sakusa quipped. He stepped into the hallway and made a beeline for the elevators. It was only when he pushed the elevator call button that he genuinely questioned what the hell he was doing.

But before he could backtrack, Atsumu sidled up beside him and said, “Thanks.”

Sakusa blinked. What was Atsumu thanking him for? Shouldering ninety-percent of the workload brought on by their time at Inarizaki? Putting up with his usual pompous attitude?

The elevator dinged open.

The hotel lobby was vacant when Sakusa and Atsumu crossed it. This was likely due to the fact that it was a weekday night, and the hotel mostly served business travelers. There was one lone woman typing away at her laptop with a glass of red wine perched beside her and a bartender reading a book while waiting for customers.

“Hiya.” Atsumu slid into one of the stools sideways, body facing to the left as he leaned against the counter. “Can we get a drink menu?”

The bartender nodded and pulled out two menus from beneath the counter and slid them across. Sakusa shuffled into the stool, knees knocking into Atsumu’s legs as he murmured apologies and tried to settle himself comfortably. He found the physical contact mildly unsettling.

“Can I have a highball?” Atsumu asked. “I dunno what mid-top shelf ya got, but somethin’ nice for the price.”

“I’ll have the same,” Sakusa said, noncommittally. He wasn’t quite sure what Atsumu hoped to accomplish by asking him out to drinks—at least, he wasn’t, until the bartender parted to get their cocktails and Atsumu let out a loud groan.

Sakusa flinched as Atsumu dropped his head against the counter with a heavy thud. It couldn’t have been painless.

“Um…what are you doing?” Sakusa peered at Atsumu. His eyes were closed, forehead flush against the wood, and he shook his head.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” Atsumu said. He cracked one eye open when he lifted his head to look desperately at Sakusa in search for encouragement or—something. 

“What sucks?” When Atsumu dropped his head on the counter again, Sakusa almost grabbed him by the hair to stop it. “Don’t do that. You’ll end up with a bruise tomorrow.”

“I know I’ve been kinda all over the place lately.”

Sakusa snorted. The bartender returned with two tall glasses of bubbling highball, and Sakusa said, “Could we also get two shots just straight?”

Atsumu’s head perked up again. “You haven’t even tried the first drink and you’re already orderin’ another?”

“I think you could use it.”

“You’re bein’ thoughtful.” Atsumu picked himself off the counter and leaned one elbow on it. He rested his cheek against his hand as he eyed Sakusa with equal parts curiosity and accusation. Sakusa rolled his eyes.

“You look terrible. And your work reflects that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Whatever makes you back to your usual self. If it’s getting shit-faced in the middle of the week, okay. Just don’t get a hangover tomorrow.”

Atsumu muttered, “No guarantees,” before taking a generous gulp of his cocktail.

Sakusa sipped his slowly, unsure if this was an invitation to talk about it. But Atsumu kept making these faces like he was about to say something unprompted, but quickly lost the will to, so Sakusa figured he might as well rip off the bandaid for him. “How do you know Kita?”

Atsumu stilled. “I don’t know Kita.”

“I can’t believe you just tried to lie about something that’s clearly true.”

“Shut yer trap.”

“Ex-coworkers? Ex-classmates?” Sakusa rattled off the potential scenarios he’d run through his head over the past few days. “Ex-boss? Ex—”

“Just ex,” Atsumu snarled. He flinched at his own aggression before throwing an apologetic glance at Sakusa’s direction. The bartender returned with two shot glasses full to the rim with whiskey, and Sakusa turned over his credit card to open a tab.

Atsumu gaped.

Sakusa ignored his expression. “Ex, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s stupid.” Atsumu drew circles in the condensation gathered on the table underneath his cocktail glass. “I usually don’t let shit like this bother me.”

“Everyone has something that bothers them,” Sakusa replied. He wanted to add, _But you shouldn’t let that impact your work,_ but based on Atsumu’s misery he didn’t think it would be wise to.

So, instead, he picked up one of the shot glasses and gestured to Atsumu. Atsumu reciprocated with a small—albeit sad—smile.

“Are you gonna gimme a toast or what?”

“Sure. For being the most annoying coworker I’ve ever had.”

Atsumu snorted a laugh before throwing the whiskey back, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. Sakusa did the same, turning away because he, once again, caught himself staring. “I didn’t know I deserved a superlative.”

“You deserve a few of them.”

“Wow. I might think you’reactually startin’ to like me.” As quickly as Atsumu’s smile came, it dropped, and he returned to his dejected slump. 

Sakusa pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I’m not really great at this sort of thing,” he explained carefully. “So you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He paused again. Atsumu didn’t look at him and instead caught drops of condensation off the side of his cocktail glass with his fingertips. “Or you can talk about it. I don’t know. You’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Shinsuke and I dated, that’s all.” Atsumu’s voice was different this way. Maybe the alcohol stole the edges off his words, but Atsumu sounded softer. “It ended almost two years ago now. We were together for…a while.”

“I see.” Sakusa tried to hide the frown forming on his face. He didn’t think Atsumu would be the type of person for a long-term relationship. Everything about him screamed playboy, from his stubborn charisma all the way down to the ridiculously polished toes of his shoes. For most people who worked in consulting, there wasn’t time for long term relationships, anyway, which was a huge reason why Sakusa hadn’t dated much since university. “And now you have to work in his company.”

“And now I’m workin’ in his fuckin’ company. How twisted is that? What god did I piss off that I’m stuck with the worst luck on the planet?”

“If it was over a year ago—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I shouldn’t let it bother me too much.” Atsumu drained the rest of his drink. He waved down the bartender. “He looks stupid, anyway.”

“Kita-san is anything but stupid, and you know that.” The words clipped off of Sakusa’s tongue faster than he could hold them in. He held his breath, expecting a snarl from Atsumu, but all he received was another sigh.

“Yeah, trust me—do I fuckin’ know.”

Is this what Atsumu wanted? A relationship talk? Or a breakup talk? Sakusa strongly considered dialing Komori, who had more experience with this sort of thing. Or even Adriah, because Adriah—for all his mischievous fuckery—had just proposed to his fiancee. What was Sakusa supposed to say? 

_Fuck_ , Sakusa thought. _I should’ve taken notes from Komori._

Atsumu, however, barreled on of his own volition—as he often did—without prompting from Sakusa at all. “We broke up right after we moved in together. I didn’t realize he was workin’ at Inarizaki. I thought he was still in Sendai.”

“Sendai.” A small piece of the puzzle fell into place in Sakusa’s mind. “When you were at Shiratorizawa?”

“Yeah. It was the worst fuckin’ time of my life.” Atsumu groaned and slammed his fist against the bar counter. The ice cubes in their glasses clinked together, and his face pinched. “And his, too, I guess. Cuz he dumped my ass over it. I was not only left at a shitty company, but I was dumped, too. It sucked.”

“Is Shiratorizawa the company you were at before you came to MSBY?”

“Yeah. I was about to be cut from the lease and I wanted outta Sendai. That’s why I moved to Tokyo.” Atsumu shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d actually run into him back here. If anything, I thought my bad luck woulda brought us back together somewhere in Miyagi, so I’m lucky it didn’t.”

Sakusa nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s pretty unlucky. That you ran into him here instead, in a workplace environment.”

“ _Exactly._ I fuckin’ ran into him here. Didn’t even hear nothin’ about this director we’d be workin’ with till Akagi came up with him. So. I’m tryna remain professional or whatever but for some reason seein’ him act all normal and professional and shit makes it…” Atsumu’s jaw clenched. “It makes it worse.”

“I’m sure he’s just good at hiding it,” Sakusa said.

“You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

Atsumu barked a dry laugh. “No.”

“Sorry. Should I try something else?”

“Nah. You don’t gotta try nothin’. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Atsumu drank from the water and signaled that he wanted another round. When Sakusa’s mouth twitched in disapproval right when Atsumu glanced at him, Atsumu huffed. “I ain’t gonna drink too much. I promise.”

“I’ll bet that’s what you said when you went out a couple weeks ago.”

“Fuck off.”

Sakusa drained the rest of his drink. If he were truly being honest with Atsumu, he would have commented on how Atsumu could’ve used this as a learning opportunity: how to maintain classy professionalism just like Kita. Sakusa was impressed, because it wasn’t the same nonchalance he’d seen Hanamaki give his exes at MSBY. It was more than that. Kita seemed refined. Elegant, even. All in the face of seeing a long term ex-boyfriend.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually admirin’ the guy.”

Sakusa’s cheeks flushed with both surprise and embarrassment. “I am not.”

“If you fall in love with him, too, I’m not gonna know whether I should cry or laugh.”

“I am _not_ falling in love with _anyone_ that I do business with—”

“Y’know, he totally seems like yer type, too. I dunno what we were thinkin’, bein’ together and all that. Since you know him a little, gimme yer honest opinion—do you actually think you could picture me with someone like Shinsuke?”

“Kita,” Sakusa corrected.

Atsumu looked away. The words didn’t need to be said—‘Kita’ would always be ‘Shinsuke’.

“I don’t know either of you well enough to pass judgement on that.” Sakusa pulled his phone out of his pocket when it went off—an email from Iwaizumi, requesting their invoices for the Karasuno assessment. “So I can’t say.”

“You don’t hafta. I see it all on yer face.” Atsumu leaned into Sakusa’s personal space, which made him instinctively lean away. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you’re bein’, Omi Omi.”

Sakusa cleared his throat and looked at the bottles of liquor stacked on the shelves, illuminated by warm lights. If he hadn’t done that, he knew he’d give himself away—that Atsumu would be able to see just how much his eyes were drawn to the sharp angle of his Adam’s apple, and how they wanted to peer lower. Sakusa was absolutely furious at himself for continuing to check out the oddest areas, like Atsumu’s forearms that were exposed only because he had rolled up his sleeves. Or the sturdy curve of his thighs, or the expanse of his back.

It was so unfair.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Atsumu blinked. “About what?” 

“We still have tomorrow and Friday with them. And any post-assessment follow up. Are you going to mope around like an emo teenager the whole time?”

“I ain’t an emo teenager—”

“Should I start playing depressing ballads on the stereo during our commute? Requesting Kita to show up in the room coincidentally at the same time you might need to take a shit?”

“That might be kinda nice.” Atsumu sipped on his drink, and despite being in a generally depressed state the entire week, Sakusa noticed his mood had picked up. Even if it was only a little. “My shits are speedy, though. It wouldn’t be enough time.”

“I do _not_ need to know the rate at which you defecate.”

“You’re the one who brought it up first.”

“You’re the one,” Sakusa said, “who brought up your ex-boyfriend first.”

Atsumu sighed again. “I’ll be better tomorrow and Friday,” Atsumu promised. “Might not meet yer crazy high standards of professionalism or what the fuck ever, but I’ll be better than I was today.”

“I hope so. It makes me pity you.” Sakusa recalled small moments where Atsumu’s willpower seemed to falter—fracture, even. Up until now, he never seemed like the kind of person who faltered at any given moment. Part of the reason people at MSBY respected him wasn’t for his tact or even for his kindness. People respected Miya Atsumu because he demanded what he wanted, and he did it without fear of failure or repercussion. In the times his projects had gone askew in the past, Atsumu merely shrugged it off and attacked it at a different angle.

He was different from Sakusa in that way. Sakusa didn’t do that. He did things methodically and logically. He adjusted tactics based on the circumstances. And he never went off of what he wanted. Because what he wanted, more than ever, was to feel valued and respected for his work and perseverance.

But as Sakusa sat beside Atsumu, who grew drunker with each passing second (because apparently he couldn’t hold his liquor as well as he seemed to be able to), Sakusa saw a different side to his coworker-enemy-rival. This Atsumu, the one slumped over the counter without his usual fanfare of snarky remarks and charismatic grins, was someone Sakusa thought—okay, maybe he could be friends with.

But he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know anything about relationship talks nor did he know anything about break up talks, but Sakusa _did_ know how to talk about work.

In an effort to bring Atsumu’s mind to something else, he said, “Tell me about Shiratorizawa.” He clinked his glass against Atsumu’s and took a generous sip from his next drink, resigning the inevitable fact that he wouldn’t be doing work for the rest of the night. 

“Hah.” Atsumu scoffed with a wry smile. “How much of it d’ya wanna hear? It might just make you relive all yer bad experiences at MSBY.”

“Oh, really?”

Atsumu’s eyesight wavered for a moment before he looked up at Sakusa from beneath his lashes. “We’re not too different, y’know.”

The hairs on the back of Sakusa’s neck stood up. Atsumu’s eyes held an intensity in them, dry and cynical and irrefutable in a way that Sakusa had seen in one other person—himself.

Sakusa drank from his glass and ignored the thrill that ran down his shoulders and straight to the pit of his stomach, where he figured the churning sensation that bloomed there was a result of drinking liquor, not anything else. “Then tell me.”

With the permission Sakusa granted him, Atsumu ran. He started from the beginning, from his days in university, and how he’d started out thinking he’d get into the nonprofit sector before switching to the private consulting industry to pay off loans. How his brother was blessed with taking the risky route, starting his own business, and not him. How Shiratorizawa recruited him at a conference his previous boss had dragged him to, and how he knew it was the opportunity of a lifetime to grow his career.

Sakusa listened as Atsumu rambled about the toxic company culture, about the nepotism that infiltrated the ranks, including the multiple promotions he was passed over despite being qualified for. Atsumu was right about at least one thing: they were more alike than Sakusa originally thought. The demanding workload, the ad hoc deadlines, the expectation that you were paid for forty hours but worked sixty—all of that was the same. 

Perhaps even more so, since Atsumu said office politics meant more there than even at MSBY, which Sakusa couldn’t believe. But Sakusa knew better than to argue; prior to MSBY, his only experience was at a local firm that was run with older folks who erred on the more flexible side. MSBY was his big break, and it hadn’t occurred to him that, for Atsumu, maybe it was a different kind of break that he needed.

Sakusa waved the bartender over more than a few more times, both for water and alcohol refills, and as Atsumu continued drinking shot-for-shot, drink-for-drink, even water-for-water with him, he only grew increasingly agitated. It was only when Atsumu got to the part that Sakusa wanted to hear about—the part about Kita and why they’d broken up—that Atsumu paused.

“I don’t need to keep goin’. This shit ain’t worth—”

“Why’d he dump you?” Sakusa asked. The liquor loosened his tongue, and he rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, which had gotten a little wet from spilling some of his drink on it. 

Atsumu’s brow furrowed as his lips came back together in a tight, precise line. Sakusa almost reached out to poke at them with his fingers and to get them to relax back to their original state, full and a soft pink that always got rosier when Atsumu drank. “I was at the office more often than not,” Atsumu finally admitted. “Stopped takin’ care of him. Us. Myself. The house. The times I _was_ around, I was mostly, y’know.” Atsumu glanced away. His fingers drummed on the surface of the bar counter before coming together into a tight fist. “I was a bitch. Always pickin’ fights about things and stressed out ‘cause of work. It was pretty bad.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“He shoulda dumped me earlier, actually. I’m surprised he stuck around like he did.”

“You left Shiratorizawa because of him?” Sakusa asked.

Atsumu nodded—though it was more of a bob, considering how Atsumu’s head dropped in a sloppy manner.

“Did you leave because you wanted to leave Sendai, or did you leave because you wanted to leave your company?”

Atsumu rested both elbows on the counter, and for a moment, Sakusa was worried he’d smash his head against it once more. But Atsumu merely rested his weight against it as he let himself get lost in thought. His face was illuminated by the warm lights of the lobby, his profile emphasized by the shadows that crossed most of his features. Sakusa got a good look at it—how his forehead sloped gently into his nose, and how the angle of his jawline was absolutely devastating to any viewer.

“I think it was a bit of both,” Atsumu said after a beat of silence. His words had begun to trail together, not quite slurring, but not clear and crisp like they usually were. “Or maybe a lotta both. But it was definitely both.” He turned his head towards Sakusa and gave him a pointed look. “Why do you think I tease you so much for bein’ a workaholic? I’ve been there and done that. It ain’t worth it. You just end up losin’ out on things. Or people. Or both. I don’t wanna lose my twenties to that grievin’ over a loss that’s avoidable.”

“There’s a solution to that, you know.” 

“Yeah? Y’mean like leavin’ the office at a decent time?” Atsumu said. “Or quittin’ a company you hate and findin’ a better one that suits yer needs?”

“No. I mean like not dating.”

The confusion cleared from his face as understanding dawned on him, and then, a gentle expression of horror. “Don’t tell me you’re a sunuva bitch that don’t believe in gettin’ attached.”

Sakusa frowned. Is that what it was? Was he afraid of getting attached? No, no, no— _No._ Atsumu was putting words into his mouth and thoughts into his brain, which wasn’t a wise idea, considering both of them were both fairly drunk. Besides, Sakusa knew all about commitment, and responsibility, and whatever else it was that long term relationships required. He had excellent communication skills, too, and wasn’t that what made any relationship successful? “That’s not it at all.”

“I totally thought you had a secret sugar daddy or somethin’. For some reason I thought you totally had the personality of someone who’d have an older someone fundin’ ya.” Sakusa scrunched his nose in disgust, and Atsumu laughed out loud. “But then it didn’t make sense, ‘cause none of yer clothes are particularly nice and you work too hard for not enough money.”

“My clothes are nice,” Sakusa said.

“They’re fine for what they are. But they ain’t the kinda fancy attire I’d expect from a _professional_ like you.” Okay, now Atsumu was making fun of him. Unlike usual, however, Sakusa accepted it with a sigh of resignation. “Then you showed up with hickeys—”

“They weren’t hickeys.”

Atsumu giggled. “And I was like, ‘Oh, Omi-kun’s normal.’”

“I haven’t felt the need to get in a long term relationship yet.” Sakusa spun his glass around on the table with his fingers. His head felt lightheaded, and he could feel fatigue begin to settle in the corners of mind.

“Aha. See? It ain’t about need. It’s about want.” Atsumu licked his lips again. He’d started doing that more the drunker he got, and the drunker Sakusa got, the more it affected him. 

“Fine. I don’t _want_ to. That doesn’t mean I don’t date, Miya. I go on dates.”

“Yeah? The deep dickin’ kinda dates?’

“That’s none of your business.”

“It ain’t my business in the same way you knowin’ Shinsuke’s my ex shouldn’t be any of yer business.” Atsumu grinned. All things considered, he, at the very least, looked to be in a better mood than he had at the start of his night. Sakusa couldn’t do much for him besides get drunk with him, so he supposed this was a victory in his books. 

“My _personal appointments_ ,” Sakusa emphasized, “are personal for a reason.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Atsumu chugged the remainder of his water and belched at the end. “Yer business is yer business. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do, Omi Omi, but maybe it’d do you some good to find somethin’ outside of the office to enjoy.”

Sakusa considered Atsumu’s words—or tried to, but his mind inevitably started down the spiraling path of distractions. Did this count as a heart-to-heart? Were they bonding? Sakusa cursed and worried that Atsumu would notice his overthinking tendencies, as several minutes passed before he realized he’d spaced out. But when he stole a glance in Atsumu’s direction, all he saw was Atsumu beginning to doze off. His arms were crossed on the table, face buried in them, torso twisted sideways. Sakusa had no idea how that could be considered comfortable. Atsumu’s knee pressed up against his, warm and solid, and burned a hole through the thick fleece of Sakusa’s sweatpants.

Sakusa didn’t mind sitting in silence, so he pulled out his phone and pointedly ignored all the notifications for emails that arrived in his inbox. Instead, he snapped a photo of Atsumu dozing on the bar counter and sent it to Hanamaki.

> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> LOL is it dead
> 
> what did u do to him
> 
> is this ur strategy to get promoted
> 
> kill him to take the job
> 
> i approve
> 
> “et tu, omi?”
> 
> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> Unfortunately I did.
> 
> Not.
> 
> Haha.
> 
> Haaah.
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> UR TOTALLY WASTED
> 
> GOOD JOB

Sakusa grinned as he sipped at his water. Atsumu began snoring, a soft hum that was imperceptibly audible despite the otherwise silent bar. He went back and forth with Hanamaki for a while, hearing about Hanamaki’s new fling-turned-something-more, and Sakusa almost texted asking if Hanamaki thought he actually had relationship attachment issues. He shook himself out of it, though, and somehow scrounged up enough reason not to.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was just past ten-thirty, which meant he and Atsumu had been at the bar for two hours, and they had eleven hours to sober up, sleep, and put themselves back together for the remainder of the work week.

“Miya.” Atsumu remained immobile. Sakusa gestured to the bartender requesting the check, kind of regretting that he offered to foot the bill. The regret stung further when he saw the price tag of their conversation. Sakusa signed off on it and left a generous tip before nudging Atsumu’s leg with his foot. “Miya.” When that didn’t work, he kicked at Atsumu’s bar stool with more force. “Atsumu. Wake up.”

Atsumu made a noncommittal grunt. Sakusa’s brain, muddled by alcohol, reached for Atsumu’s shoulder to shake him awake. But Sakusa’s judgement must have been impaired; his fingers came in contact with Atsumu’s head instead. His hair was soft, softer than Sakusa expected given the intense bleach and dye Atsumu boasted of. Sakusa swallowed at the unexpected contact and tried not to make it weird, nudging against Atsumu’s head with calculated pressure. “Hey. Let’s go back to our rooms.”

Atsumu’s eyes blinked open, heavy-lidded from fatigue and alcohol, and he slowly picked up his head. Sakusa’s fingertips lingered for just a moment more before he withdrew his hand entirely, and for some reason, a deep flush worked its way across his entire body. “Okay. Okay. I’m up.”

Sakusa stood up, embarrassed that it took a couple extra steps to find his balance, but quickly steadied himself and attempted to shake the drunkenness out of his head. Atsumu followed, in worse shape than Sakusa, and a flicker of pity for Atsumu’s inevitable hangover grabbed hold of Sakusa’s attention.

“Fuck.” Atsumu sniffled. “I’m drunk.”

“What did you expect?” Sakusa began walking back towards the elevator at a slower pace than usual so Atsumu could keep up. “You kept knocking back highballs.”

“I can’t even think of a good comeback to that,” Atsumu said. “That’s how drunk I am. Ugh.”

Sakusa stumbled into the elevator, leveraging the wall to keep his head from spinning, incredibly aware of how, despite the wide breadth of the elevator space, Atsumu stood close. As in, closer than necessary. His elbow brushed against the side of Sakusa’s waist as he reached out to press the button for their floor.

Sakusa took a measured breath before inching away. Atsumu leaned his back against the elevator wall, and he barely peeled himself away from it when the doors opened.

“ _Shit_. We gotta work tomorrow.”

“You were the one that wanted to drink.”

“Don’t get testy with me tonight, Omi.” Atsumu wagged a finger in his face, and Sakusa swatted it away with a lazy flick of his hand. “You’re always testy, but maybe you’d stop bein’ testy if you just stopped bein’ testy.”

“That didn’t even make sense.” Sakusa pushed Atsumu gently in the direction of his room. His back was warm against the palm of Sakusa’s hand. “Go to bed, Miya.”

Atsumu nodded lazily as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his wallet and fumbled through it to find his key card. Sakusa waited at his door next to his and watched as Atsumu slapped the card against the reader, slipping through it without another word. The door thumped shut behind him.

Sakusa stared at his own door, then back at Atsumu’s, then back at his. He reached to retrieve his own key card when Atsumu’s door creaked open a sliver, and Atsumu stuck his head out towards Sakusa’s direction.

“Hey,” Atsumu mumbled. He paused. Perhaps it was the messy hair, or the alcohol in Sakusa’s brain, or the fact that Sakusa had learned a little bit more about him, but he looked different. Sakusa couldn’t quite pinpoint if the subtle shift was on his or Atsumu’s part, but he knew that, without a doubt, it was there. “Um.”

Sakusa blinked. “Yes?”

“Uh.” Another pause. “Good night.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Sakusa in an empty hallway, alcohol coursing through his veins, wondering what the fuck had just happened, and the consequences—other than a hangover—that would come tomorrow.


	13. the one with the return to the office

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Dude
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I am so fkn hungover
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I gathered that from you saying that repeatedly the entire commute here.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Too hungover no brain space to respond
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I’m gonna be honest i have no idea what akagi’s been saying for the past 10 min
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Do you have any advil
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> No, but I saw some in the kitchenette. There’s a first aid box on the wall.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Next door lounge.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Ok i will get some
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Get me two as well, please.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> you’re hungover too????
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Yes.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Why?
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> You’re like
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> functioning 
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Not my first time being hungover at work.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Unfortunately.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> :O
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> You always surprise me, omi omi

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Kita Shinsuke <skita@inarizaki.com>, Akagi Michinari <makagi@inarizaki.com>
> 
> **CC** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : MSBY Assessment of Inarizaki on Behalf of Seijoh — Review Summary
> 
> Dear Kita-san and Akagi-san,
> 
> Thank you very much for your support and expertise the past week. We sincerely appreciate the time you took to host us onsite.
> 
> Attached please find the draft report containing the findings that we discussed in the closing meeting. This still needs to be reviewed by Seijoh, so please do not file this in any official records until it has been completed.
> 
> Please let us know if you have any questions, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Kita Shinsuke <skita@inarizaki.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Akagi Michinari <makagi@inarizaki.com>, Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : MSBY Assessment of Inarizaki on Behalf of Seijoh — Review Summary
> 
> Dear Sakusa and Miya,
> 
> You’re very welcome. I will follow up with any further questions I may have regarding the report.
> 
> I hope you have safe travels and may we work again together in the future.
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Kita Shinsuke

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Kita Shinsuke <skita@inarizaki.com>
> 
> **CC** : Akagi Michinari <makagi@inarizaki.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : MSBY Assessment of Inarizaki on Behalf of Seijoh — Review Summary 
> 
> Hi Kita-san and Akagi-san,
> 
> Thank

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> FUCK
> 
> I HIT SEND TOO SOON
> 
> OMI OMMI HELP
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Just recall the email.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> OKOKOK
> 
> Wait
> 
> I TRIED AND IT DIDN’T WORK HELP
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> It’s not a big deal.
> 
> Just email with a quick apology and then type out what you meant to send.
> 
> Loser.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> rude >:^(

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Kita Shinsuke <skita@inarizaki.com>
> 
> **CC** : Akagi Michinari <makagi@inarizaki.com>, Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : MSBY Assessment of Inarizaki on Behalf of Seijoh — Review Summary 
> 
> Hi Kita-san and Akagi-san,
> 
> Sorry about that. Hit send too soon.
> 
> Wanted to say — thank you for your time this week. We enjoyed working with you, and please feel free to reach out should you have any further questions.
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Loser.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> fuck u bitch
> 
> ugh i just wanna be home
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> i can drive
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Okay.

* * *

Sakusa dusted off the legs of his pants with firm pats. The station bustled with travelers looking for their way home, and he lugged his suitcase alongside him.

“You sure you got everythin’?” Atsumu’s voice cut through the sounds of the train station, even through the rhythmic and loud screeching of trains against the tracks. He had a pair of over-the-ear headphones hanging around his neck. “I ain’t about to travel back with you if you forget anything.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you sure this is the right platform?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought it was—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu shut up. He tugged his suitcase alongside him and hefted his bag over his shoulder.

Sakusa took a split second too long to study him. With all things considered, not that much had changed—they worked together, he’d driven him home, and he’d seen a small sliver of Atsumu’s depth that he never thought he would. But it felt like, to him, something significant had shifted.

Atsumu, true to his word, had gotten himself back together. Sakusa didn’t know if he was partially responsible for that—or whatever heart-to-heart they’d shared—but he did know that Atsumu seemed far more at ease than he had at the beginning of the week. Atsumu managed to contribute more on Thursday and Friday than even Sakusa had expected. Sakusa had accepted that Atsumu would be completely useless with regards to Inarizaki’s company review, but he’d stepped up. He’d made it happen.

It was as surprising as it was startling. Sakusa never had to deal with working with an ex, but he could guess that there was a severe amount of mental fortitude required to do so.

“Are  _ you _ ready?” he asked. 

Back home, the shitstorm otherwise known as MSBY Consulting awaited them. Sakusa tried not to let his eyes linger on Atsumu’s frame, on his fitted jeans that hugged the curves of his muscles and the sweatshirt that looked as comfortable as Sakusa surprisingly felt around Atsumu.

“Yeah,” Atsumu said. They boarded the train side by side and settled into the business class seating next to one another, Atsumu’s face turned towards the sun outside of the window of the car. The sun was setting, lazy and low over the horizon, and it illuminated his face with a gentle glow.

Sakusa’s breath caught. He made up for it with a steady breath. “If you fall asleep, I’m not going to wake you up.”

“Huh?”

“You can sleep, but I can’t guarantee where you’ll end up.”

“Fuck off, Omi.” But the corners of Atsumu’s lips curved up as the train screeched along the tracks, the orange light of the sunset casting long shadows across his face. Sakusa looked away, not allowing himself to linger on the details—sure,  _ maybe _ they were on their way to becoming more than coworkers, but it was too soon to say what, exactly, that meant.

Sakusa turned to the side, leaned his temple against the neck of his seat, and pretended to doze off. Images of Atsumu’s face highlighted by the golden-hour rays filled his vision.

* * *

The weekend came and went fast. Atsumu dropped him off in front of his apartment complex, dust hanging in the air as he sped away from the curb to go back home, leaving Sakusa to trek back to his apartment with his bags. He swung open his apartment door, the smell of familiar laundry detergent greeting him—long term, this time, and not like the less-than-twelve-hour trip he’d spent in his apartment last week—and he found comfort in his bedroom. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he curled up under his bedsheets.

Sakusa tried to resume his typical weekend routine of house cleaning and laundry and errands, but there was considerably less house cleaning to do, since he’d been gone for nearly a month. In between folding his clothes, Sakusa found himself itching to text Atsumu, of all people—he’d grown so accustomed to being in contact, that he figured it was the reflexive response his brain geared towards.

When he tried to sleep, Sakusa merely tossed and turned, struggling to find the rest his body craved. All he could hear was that familiar Kansai drawl that he’d grown used to hearing over the course of the past three weeks. Atsumu had dropped him off with a lazy,  _ Goodbye, Omi-kun _ . He’d watched Atsumu’s car pull away from the curb and head off into the direction of Atsumu’s apartment. 

Sakusa groaned as he dug his face into his pillows at the recent turn of events. Atsumu wasn’t just some guy—not anymore. He wasn’t a friend, either, but he was  _ someone, _ and Sakusa was both determined and afraid to make sense of it.

Yet sometimes, things didn’t make sense. Like how Sakusa would drift off to sleep, and all he could see was that stupid image of Atsumu in a bathrobe, hair sticking up in odd places, flimsy belt snug and fitted around the devastating dip of his waist. But that didn’t compare to the strip of chest he got a glimpse of every time Atsumu’s polished appearance came undone, or the flush of Atsumu’s cheeks that came with the drinks he downed during their time together, or the way Atsumu’s eyes would drag up and look at Sakusa through heavy lids tinged with vulnerability and amusement.

It was—just as Sakusa had just started growing to accept—indisputably attractive.

Sakusa didn’t hate it, not in the same way he had before—though he did resent it. He resented how it sent tingles down his legs and to his stomach and to his groin, how it overtook every one of his five senses. The smell of champagne and whiskey and cologne mixed with the deep laughter that erupted from Atsumu’s chest. How it always seemed like Atsumu wanted to say more, but stopped himself, and all Sakusa got was a lingering glance that stayed a second too long on  _ him. _

Deep down, Sakusa knew that he’d always known. About this. Whatever this was—the feeling that he was suffocating under waves of want and frustration and hunger and denial.

He considered texting Iizuna, but the last time Iizuna had texted him was two weeks ago, when Sakusa was traveling. He hadn’t bothered responding, and he admittedly felt a little guilty about ignoring it. But it was already past midnight, and Sakusa felt bad when considering the prospect of dragging Iizuna out of bed for another fuck session that didn’t even mean anything. 

So Sakusa reached between his legs and took care of it himself. He was uncomfortably hard and the moment his hand offered the smallest bit of friction, both relief and greed tackled any sense of reason.

Weak from the fatigue of traveling and overworking himself for three consecutive weeks with judgement that could only be described as ‘impaired,’ Sakusa got himself off to the images he tried so very hard not to notice or envision. Images that had, for the better part of the past year, infiltrated his mind space, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out. That was all he could do, anyway, even if he woke up the next morning feeling gross and ashamed over feeling perverse thoughts for someone that he was  _ supposed _ to be maintaining a professional relationship with. 

Atsumu was, after all, a coworker, and nothing else—no matter how much his brain (or dick) wanted to protest. Sakusa didn’t need any complications in his life, nor did he need any hot blonde assholes causing him sexual or existential crises every time they sat in an enclosed space for more than two minutes.

Sakusa fell asleep that night feeling sexually and emotionally frustrated and confused, but the lingering thought that echoed in his mind failed to leave him alone when he woke up the next morning:  _ don’t let yourself get too carried away. _ It was only when Sakusa returned to the office that he realized it would be easier said than done.

* * *

Sakusa felt semi-revitalized yet more-than-mildly distressed when he strolled into work on Monday. The familiar surroundings greeted him, such as Miya’s Corner bustling at eight in the morning, the cramped cubicle area smelling like car freshener, even Bokuto’s exclamations of excitement when Sakusa dropped his bag against the foot of his desk. His desk was left exactly as he left it, complete with an array of to-do lists, post-it notes, and reminders that he’d left for himself.

The first one that caught his eye:  _ REMINDER — call mom about the mortgage payments. _ Sakusa crumpled it in his hands as he sorted through the rest.

_ APPOINTMENT — promotion interview with Meian on 31 March. _ That one he’d sort of forgotten. In fact—if Sakusa was being completely honest—he sort of forgot about the promotion at all. Sure, he knew it was still happening, but his tunnel vision had gotten the better of him, and all he’d thought about the past three weeks was work.

_ NOTE TO SELF — travel with Miya on behalf of Seijoh. _

Sakusa hesitated, then peeled the post-it note off the corner of the desktop, tossing all the outdated notes in the empty trash bin at the foot of his desk. He pulled out the planner from one of his drawers and attempted to recollect himself with a fresh cup of coffee at his side. The office was still empty—the only person present other than Bokuto was Adriah, who didn’t give a single flying fuck about Sakusa—and Sakusa was grateful for the lack of disruption.

He uncapped his pen and jotted down his notes as he absentmindedly reached for his  _ MEMENTO MORI _ mug. He desperately wanted to get Atsumu out of his head. It seemed like everywhere he turned, Atsumu’s presence lingered: Atsumu was in the sharp flavor of the lattes Osamu fixed for him, and he was in the hum of the appliances as Sakusa heated up his morning oatmeal. Sakusa half-expected Atsumu’s instant message notification to pop up at the bottom corner of his screen, and he found himself reaching for his phone far more often than he did in a typical work day. 

Atsumu was everywhere. And Sakusa could do nothing about it.

Was this what it was like to make friends in the office? Sakusa thought that could’ve been it, but he debunked that theory almost as soon as he conceived of it. Because he never thought about Hanamaki to the same extent that he thought about Atsumu. He’d also never gotten off to Hanamaki, though, and Sakusa stilled as realization hit him faster than he could say  _ shit. _

There were two simple explanations to that. The first: Sakusa’s feelings towards Miya Atsumu were already tainted prior to them ever becoming friendly. They’d hated each other with incredible amounts of passion, so of  _ course _ any other sentiments would feel about a million times stronger than Sakusa’s general indifference with others.

The second: Sakusa’s attraction towards Atsumu had only grown. This wouldn’t have been groundbreaking news, since Sakusa had always been attracted to him, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t. But this was a dangerous theory to play with and one that was becoming more and more likely with every second.

For fuck’s sake. He’d masturbated to the guy. This wasn’t just an ordinary office friend.

_ Shit. _

He was so caught up in these mental gymnastics that he didn’t even realize that his coffee had grown cold and a solid hour had passed at his desk.

Sakusa had never had an unproductive morning like this before. The number of unread emails in his inbox had only grown, and as more of his coworkers filtered in, Sakusa attempted to keep himself looking busy by clicking around randomly on his desktop, reading over the same sentence in a random report as time passed.

On the inside, he was having a minor freakout. He was attracted to Miya Atsumu. Not groundbreaking news. But finding a coworker hot was different from actually wrapping your fingers around your dick to jerk off to him.

Sakusa nearly face planted against his desk, just as Atsumu had done during their night at the bar. This was  _ his _ fault.

“Sakusa! Welcome back.” Adriah materialized at Sakusa’s desk with a folder tucked under his arm. “How was your travel? Do any sightseeing while you were away?”

Sakusa glanced at the folder warily. He suspected this wasn’t a polite visit. “Not really. I was working.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. You should’ve taken the weekends to be a tourist, or something.”

Sakusa forced a polite smile. “How was the office?”

“Ah, you know.” Adriah gestured vaguely with the wave of his hand. “Same old, same old. Had a couple guys from EJP to take care of your work and Atsumu’s stuff while you were out.”

“I heard.”

“Washio’s great. I hope Meian hires him, but Washio said he’s booked for the remainder of the quarter when it comes to reviewing reports…” Adriah’s eyes veered down to the folder.

Sakusa sighed.

“Do you need someone to review yours?”

Adriah perked up. “I was actually just gonna ask you! I have a few memos I had to draft for one of our clients. Would you mind looking over it?”

Sakusa glanced at his digital calendar, which was surprisingly free this week. He expected that by noon today, it would be completely booked.

He held out his hand. “When do you need this by?”

“Um…close of business.”

Sakusa frowned. “Today?”

“Today.”

Sakusa wanted to chuck the folder back in Adriah’s direction. But it wasn’t too thick, and probably contained only about forty-five minutes of focused review. So he slid it across his desk and slapped a post-it note on it.  _ REVIEW FOR ADRIAH. _ “I’ll leave it on your desk when I’m done.”

“Thanks, Sakusa!” Adriah grinned. Sakusa didn’t like his grin. It reminded him too much of Atsumu’s suggestive smile. “We missed having you and Atsumu around.”

That had to be a lie, or at least a partial lie. No one missed him. Maybe they missed Atsumu, or they missed the services Sakusa provided to the company. But no one missed  _ him. _

“G’mornin’, Omi Omi.” 

Sakusa lifted his head to find Atsumu looking refreshed and as crisp as he always did. His hair was slightly unfurled, and he tapped his fingers against Sakusa’s monitors. A broad smile stretched across his face as he shoved at Adriah with his outstretched arm. “Hey, loser.”

Adriah rolled his eyes. “I take it back, Sakusa. The office missed you, not Atsumu.”

“No one asked for yer opinion.”

“You couldn’t leave his ass in Sendai? Or—better yet—Osaka?”

“Believe me,” Sakusa quipped. “I fucking tried.”

Adriah burst out laughing while Atsumu pouted. His large eyes traced over Sakusa’s seated position, from his elbows resting on the desk to the peak of his disheveled hair. “Long time no see.” 

“It’s been two days.”

“Ain’t it been a long two days?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. He preferred Atsumu this way, he decided—when he was nothing but a nuisance, always trying to get Sakusa riled up about something. It was a welcome distraction to the unsettling feelings blooming in his chest. His face went warm as he tried to suppress the memory of repeated hand jobs he’d given himself and he somehow managed a curt, “Not nearly long enough.”

Atsumu barked a laugh. His dark suit had the slightest sheen to it, as if littered with shiny threads that caught Sakusa’s eye. “I finalized the Karasuno report, by the way. I’ll send it to you when I get a chance to settle into my desk.”

“Make sure you double check the font.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“I’ve never seen anything as atrocious as that.”

“Now you’re just bein’ a drama queen.”

A throat cleared.

Sakusa keenly became aware of the fact that Adriah was still standing there, one hand resting against his hip as he raised an eyebrow at the entire exchange. He looked from Sakusa to Atsumu, from Atsumu to Sakusa and back again, and Sakusa felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. 

He didn’t wish to be seen by anyone. And Adriah was definitely  _ seeing. _

“Say…” Adriah squinted. “Since when did you jerks get along?”

“We’ve always gotten along,” Sakusa blurted. He winced when Atsumu turned his head with an eyebrow raised. That single movement spoke volumes:  _ Are you fuckin’ serious, Omi-kun? _

Adriah, of course, didn’t let it go. He cackled as he pointed a finger between the two of them. “You two? Get along? Really?”

“I get along with everyone,” Atsumu said.

“You wish you did.”

“Y’know what they say. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Really?” Adriah crossed his arms. He was way too tall, Sakusa decided. Anyone as tall as Adriah couldn’t be trusted. “And who’s your enemy, exactly?”

“You, you dumb bitch.”

Sakusa snorted a laugh, and Adriah’s head whipped in his direction. He stared him down with narrowed eyes as Sakusa began fiddling with his mouse, clicking emails at random. “Atsumu. Don’t tell me you actually—”

“Adriah.” Atsumu interrupted him and began ushering Adriah in the direction of his desk. “Let’s go get coffee from my jerk brother. You missed me, didn’t you? That’s why you’re actin’ out.” Atsumu lifted up to excuse himself. “Chat later, Omi Omi.”

Sakusa nodded as he turned back to his monitor—kind of. Atsumu and Adriah spoke in hushed tones and Sakusa watched their retreating backs as they exited out of the office space. A twinge of annoyance settled itself in his chest, because for all he knew, Atsumu was, once again, shit talking him to Adriah—there was more than enough material to work with.

But then again, maybe he wasn’t. Sakusa couldn’t shake the feeling that a paradigm shift had occurred, one that even  _ he— _ Sakusa, the thoughtful, careful, rational one—couldn’t have foreseen by sheer calculation. For the first time since he began working at MSBY, Sakusa started the week thinking about something other than work.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Komi Haruki <hkomi@fukurodani.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Upcoming Assessment of Fukurodani 
> 
> Hi Komi-san,
> 
> I hope this email finds you well! Allow me to introduce myself: I’m Miya Atsumu, with MSBY Consulting, LLC. Your contact information was provided to me by Iwaizumi Hajime at Aoba Johsai LTD, dba Seijoh. As you may have heard, Seijoh is reviewing their subcontractors to determine which ones are considered qualified for services contracted with Seijoh.
> 
> I will be working alongside Sakusa Kiyoomi (CC’ed here) to conduct a remote review of your procedures and investigations. May we have a copy of your most up-to-date index as well as any written procedures related to services provided to Seijoh?
> 
> If you would like to set up a 30-minute phone call prior to initial review, please feel free to let me know and I’ll be more than happy to set one up via teleconference.
> 
> Thank you very much, and I look forward to working with you!
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Upcoming Assessment of Fukurodani
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Why are your emails so long. I don’t want to read them. Make them shorter.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : You Are A Brat
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> U are a brat
> 
> PS it’s called being friendly.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : I don’t have time to read long things. 
> 
> Miya—
> 
> You can be friendly with short emails.
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : No 
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> Mementomi momi.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : I am requesting IT to block your address.
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I hate that you made me read that.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Are you sure about that???
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> But I see you smiling. LOL.
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Stop staring at me.
> 
> Miya—
> 
> It’s rude.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **From** : Komi Haruki <hkomi@fukurodani.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Upcoming Assessment of Fukurodani
> 
> Hi Miya-san,
> 
> It’s great to hear from you! Please see the link below for a shared drive containing the documents you requested.
> 
> A quick call would be great. Please book one tomorrow anytime after 4PM.
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Komi Haruki

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Stop staring at me.
> 
> Hi Komi-san,
> 
> Thank you very much! I’m about to send an invite for 4:30PM. Please confirm that you receive it.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Hey idiot.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> ?
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> You responded to the wrong email.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Huh?
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> OH AHAHAHA
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> My bad i’ll resend it

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Komi Haruki <hkomi@fukurodani.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Stop staring at me.
> 
> Hi Komi-san,
> 
> Thank you very much! I’m about to send an invite for 4:30PM. Please confirm that you receive it.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Oh my fucking god.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> What?
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Miya. You’re an IDIOT.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> LOOK AT THE SUBJECT LINE.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> FFFFFFFFFF
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT LINE
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> You’re the one that did it first. 
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Try to recall it.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> FCK

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Komi Haruki <hkomi@fukurodani.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Upcoming Assessment of Fukurodani 
> 
> Hi Komi-san,
> 
> Apologies for the previous email’s subject line. That was a mistype.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Komi Haruki <hkomi@fukurodani.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Upcoming Assessment of Fukurodani 
> 
> Hi Miya-san,
> 
> I can confirm that I have received the teleconference invite. Looking forward to chatting tomorrow!
> 
> Oh, and I’ll be sure not to stare :-)
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Komi Haruki

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> This is a sign i should quit the company
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> How the hell am i supposed to show face now
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> At least you didn’t send the email in atrocious font.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I would NEVER
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> For some reason I doubt that.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Ye of little faith
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Hah. Ur smiling again
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Stop staring at me and get back to work.

* * *

Sakusa dropped the folder on Adriah’s desk. He had on over-the-ear headphones and jumped when the folder plopped on top of his keyboard. He ripped the headphones from his head and gave Sakusa a sickly sweet smile. “Ah, Sakusa! I knew you’d pull through.”

“I made some minor grammatical corrections,” Sakusa said, “and fixed some of the wording in the third one. Otherwise they look fine.”

“Thanks!” Adriah flipped open the folder and sifted through its contents. “Damn, you’re even faster than Washio.”

“Please give me a bit more time next time you ask for reviews ad hoc,” Sakusa said. He’d spent the better part of the past hour thinking about how to say this, and ultimately settled on the mode of communication that came easiest to him: blunt, unapologetic, and direct. “I can’t keep pushing off other work to complete things on a tight deadline. A twenty-four-hour courtesy deadline would be very much appreciated.”

Adriah stared at him wide eyed. A tiny crumb of bread was stuck on his chin. 

Sakusa began to feel like maybe he’d said too much. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Huh. Nothing.” Adriah pushed his sleek dark hair to the side as he assessed Sakusa, looking him up and down. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What? Yes. I’m fine. I’m just asking—”

“No, no. I get what you’re asking. That’s fine. Usually I can work with requests that are twenty four hours in advance of when I need them done by. But…never mind.”

The look on Adriah’s face said otherwise, and Sakusa frowned. “Clearly this is not a ‘never mind’ thing.”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Huh.” Adriah’s large eyes blinked rapidly—so fast that Sakusa was concerned that Adriah would make himself dizzy. “I guess hanging out with Atsumu was good for you after all.”

“Pardon?’

“I don’t know.” Adriah reached into the mini fridge beneath his desk and pulled out a bottle of canned coffee. He offered one to Sakusa, but he shook his head. “The Sakusa I’ve always worked with never asked for anything.” Adriah’s lips curled up in a sly grin, and knots erupted in Sakusa’s stomach. He didn’t like that grin. That grin was always up to something.

“Miya  _ is _ good for you, isn’t he?”

“I don’t think Miya’s good for anyone,” Sakusa answered, though it lacked the bite he probably would have offered no more than a few weeks ago. 

Adriah snorted, leaving Sakusa confused about what he was implying. Did this mean Adriah considered Sakusa slightly more tolerable?

“Do me a favor, Sakusa,” Adriah said as Sakusa turned to head back to his desk. 

Sakusa paused. “Yes?”

“When you get promoted, send me on whatever magical trip you and Atsumu went. And send me with that Hirugami dude from finance.” 

Sakusa frowned, not really sure what Adriah was trying to get at. He returned to his desk and glanced at the clock—he and Atsumu had a call with Fukurodani in precisely six minutes. He felt Adriah’s eyes on him.

It felt like he was on the butt end of a joke, and he didn’t like it. What, exactly, was he being made fun of for? Sakusa shook his head, once again irritated that Adriah managed to get under his skin once more. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it.

Besides, he had more pressing matters, and as he briefly caught the eye of Atsumu as he gestured towards the office space exit while mouthing  _ conference room, _ Sakusa knew, beyond the shadow of doubt, that those matters were more important.

He just couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.


	14. the one with the department dinner

In between teleconference calls and email exchanges, Sakusa noticed a slew of calendar invites that took up nearly half a work day. 

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Sakusa Kiyoomi — Mgr Position — Interview with Meian

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Sakusa Kiyoomi — Mgr Position — Interview with Barnes

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Sakusa Kiyoomi — Mgr Position — Interview with Ukai

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Sakusa Kiyoomi — Mgr Position — Interview with Takeda

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>

 **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Sakusa Kiyoomi — Mgr Position — Interview with Foster

* * *

The interview dates were almost three weeks out, but Sakusa knew how this sort of thing went—it was rare that any director-level and above personnel would have availability on a short-notice. As expected, Sakusa’s calendar was virtually empty that far in advance, so he had no problem accepting each one.

While clicking the last invite, he received an instant message.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Did you get your interview invites too
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Yes.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> When is it for you
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Last day of March.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Morning or afternoon
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Morning
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> UGH I’M IN THE AFTERNOON 
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> This isn’t fair
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> You get a head start
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> It’s not a race.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Everything is >:)

Sakusa shook his head and closed the chat window. He had no idea if Atsumu was legitimately annoyed or if he was just pulling Sakusa’s leg. Based on the stupid emoji he sent, it had to be the latter. But after six consecutive weeks of nonstop Atsumu, Sakusa didn’t get annoyed anymore. It was more of an eye roll-worthy nuisance rather than something to bitch about.

Sakusa supposed this counted as points towards character growth or something along those lines, or perhaps his willpower dwindled the more time he spent working with Atsumu. 

It was probably time for Sakusa to start thinking about prepping for the interview, but it was hard to look beyond the next day of work that lay ahead of him. Fukurodani had been a piece of cake, and so was Shinzen. It took three business days or less for Sakusa and Atsumu to complete and sign the reports. By now, Atsumu’s task was amending contracts that Seijoh already had in place with all their vendors. Sakusa focused on preparing for the assessment of Itachiyama Institute, which wasn’t too bad—he was already familiar with them, having interned there while in university.

And the last one, Shiratorizawa Corporation—the old giant that Atsumu had once worked at. Sakusa fully believed that they were as intense as Atsumu had testified to, but he also fully believed that there wouldn’t be many problems. Companies that were as well-established as Shiratorizawa couldn’t have that many problems, so Sakusa expected it to be a breeze. A pain of the ass when dealing with the difficult and uncompromising Ushijima Wakatoshi, maybe, but a company couldn’t have a reputation like Shiratorizawa and have significant mishaps.

Sakusa had just sent off an email to his contact at Itachiyama when another email arrived from Inunaki.

* * *

> **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Internal Employees — Audits/PM Division
> 
> **CC** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Q1 Department Bonding — Dinner @ Ace BBQ
> 
> Hi All,
> 
> It’s been awhile since we had a department bonding! Please see the incoming invite from Meian for a dinner at Ace BBQ for this Friday. Apologies that this is a little late this quarter!
> 
> We hope you can all make it!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Inunaki Shion

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Inunaki Shion < sinunaki@msby.com >

 **To** : Internal Employees — Audits/PM Division

 **Invite Title** : Q1 Department Bonding — Dinner @ Ace BBQ

* * *

Sakusa’s stomach grumbled at the mention of barbecue. He hadn’t eaten grilled meat in a while, nor had he attended any of the so-called “department bondings” since...forever, actually. He went to a couple previously, but all he could remember was stuffing his face with onigiri and fish cakes. 

Sakusa wasn’t sure if Meian turned up at these events, or if this was just an excuse for the Monster Generation underlings to fuck around for a little while while on the company budget. Sakusa quickly clicked through the invitee list and saw that Meian had neither rejected nor accepted. If Meian _did_ attend, then Sakusa knew he should probably go. But if he didn’t, there wasn’t necessarily an obligation to.

After a moment’s hesitation, during which he scanned his Friday calendar (completely free after one in the afternoon), Sakusa clicked _Accept_ and went back to work.

* * *

Ace BBQ was an enormous barbecue restaurant in an industrial building that was once part of a factory. Sakusa had gone a few times with Komori or Hanamaki, and he knew that MSBY often had company meals there. It boasted of a broad selection of high quality meat at an affordable price, especially with a corporate discount. It was only a ten minute walk from the office complex, yet for some reason, it felt longer than that.

Sakusa slowed down as the minutes ticked closer and closer to the scheduled time. He’d lingered at the office after it cleared out, not because he really had any work to do, but because—for some stupid reason—Sakusa was nervous. His stomach flopped with both hunger and discomfort at the fact that he was _actually_ considering showing up at a department event of his own accord.

He convinced himself it was because of the upcoming promotion. Meian still hadn’t accepted the invite, sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going. It was like the happy hour all over again.

Secretly, though, he knew—Sakusa knew he was showing up because he wanted to. Because he felt like he should; after a year of alongside his team and seeing them more hours in a day than not, Sakusa felt compelled to at least try hanging out with them outside of work, even if it was technically still work-related.

He turned the corner at the edge of the street, tucking his jacket tighter around him. The street lights glistened against the tall glass windows he passed, flickering with the reflections of cars cruising down the street. The grassy smell of oncoming rain accompanied overcast clouds, and Sakusa cursed the fact that he hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. At least his jacket was water resistant.

Sakusa tucked his chin further under his scarf and shivered as Ace BBQ came into view. The rest of his department should’ve been there already. He took one last look at the streets around him and pursed his lips, hesitating ever so slightly at the wide doors in front of him. This wasn’t a big deal; it was just a dinner; he had no reason to be nervous.

He pushed his way through the doors and spotted a crop of boisterous men quite quickly. All in all, there were ten people in his department, and they’d snagged the long table opposite the entrance.

Sakusa clutched his bag to his chest as he hit the toes of his shoes against the carpet, frowning at the flecks of mud that gathered at the surface.

With one last breath, he approached the table. There was one empty seat at the end of the table, besides Suna.

Suna was the first to spot him. “Sakusa?” He blinked slowly, and although his voice was soft, it was loud enough that everyone around him had heard, and the entire table turned to him.

“Um.” Sakusa lifted a hand in greeting. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, you made it!” Inunaki’s face split into a wide grin, but he smiled the same way a shark did. Sakusa didn’t really trust it. “I saw you accept the invite, so I’m glad you actually decided to come.”

Sakusa awkwardly shuffled into the empty seat. He could sense everyone’s eyes on him. Mostly, he sensed Atsumu, who had a befuddled expression across his face.

“Here, Sakusa-san!” Hinata motioned for Suna to lean back and handed his menu. He nudged Kageyama beside him to share with him. “We just put in our orders for drinks. So choose what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, right?” Suna asked. 

“No, I eat everything.” Sakusa skimmed the menu, feeling a second wave of hunger surge through his stomach. He’d eaten a haphazard lunch early today, right before one of his calls scheduled with Fukurodani, and his body wouldn’t relent. “Just order whatever. I’m not very picky.”

Bokuto sat across from Atsumu and besides Adriah—the four of them would be sharing a hot plate—and he looked thoroughly invested in perusing the menu. In a fit of amusement, Sakusa thought that Bokuto looked far more invested and focused on what he was going to order for dinner than he ever did during a work day.

“Hey, Bo-kun.” 

Sakusa’s neck prickled. He kept his eyes on the menu despite Atsumu’s intense presence that overwhelmed the atmosphere surrounding them. “What’s up, Tsum Tsum?”

“Lemme switch seats with you. Inunaki’s demandin’ to order the weird chicken ass shit you like.”

“It’s a delicacy,” Inunaki called from the other end of the table. 

“You’re a heathen.”

“You have no taste, Miya.”

Bokuto laughed as the legs of his chair screeched against the floor. When Atsumu slipped into the chair across from him, Sakusa gave himself permission to glance up at him briefly. He’d ditched his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up, giant watch face ticking as he raised an eyebrow. “You actually came, Omi Omi.”

“I got hungry.”

“Y’mean you’re not gonna eat from that stash of instant ramen at yer desk?”

“You have ramen?” Adriah peered curiously at Sakusa.

Sakusa’s cheeks warmed. “And you don’t?”

“That shit’s not good for you.” 

“You’re one to talk, Adriah. You’re the one that has a collection of alcohol that gets more and more empty by the day.” Suna shook his head and kicked at Adriah under the table, who was currently flicking bits and pieces of rolled-up paper in Suna’s direction. “Cut it out, you ass.”

“Meian doesn’t come to these things usually, y’know.” Atsumu smirked at Sakusa, and Sakusa’s lips twitched downwards.

“I didn’t just come here because he might’ve been here.”

“You’re bad at lyin’.”

Sakusa didn’t have a response for that, so he settled for sending a glare despite enabling Adriah’s laughter.

When the waiter came by with two bottles of sake, shot glasses, and a notepad fully prepared for a large order, Sakusa busied himself pouring out drinks and sipping water. He hadn’t been planning on drinking, but the gnawing sensation had returned in his stomach and he found it more bearable if he gave himself something to do, however small.

Thankfully, Suna didn’t try to force him to make any small talk. He did, however, glance at Sakusa and must have seen the dilemma scampering across his face. The smallest moment of pity flashed across his usually stoic features, and he said, “How’s, uh, the Seijoh contract going?”

Suna’s voice sounded a little bit pinched. It occurred to Sakusa that awkward conversations were a two-way street. Sakusa took a steady breath. If he could work with strangers at another company, he sure as hell could make small talk with the coworkers that he’d known for well over a year.

Before he could answer, Atsumu interrupted. “It’s goin’ great.”

“I wasn’t asking you, dipshit.”

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t hurt you to ask me some things, too.” Atsumu crossed his arms. “Just cuz you’re practically my brother don’t give you the right to be rude to me.”

“Hah. Rude? Did you just call me rude?” Suna smiled, lazy and slow. “I’ve met hippos more polite than you.”

Before Atsumu could protest further, Adriah snatched one of the sake glasses and pressed it against Atsumu’s mouth. Alcohol jumped out of the sides and splattered on Atsumu’s shirt, and he yelped. “The hell are you doin’?”

“Can you behave?”

“Rin just called me a hippo.”

“Yeah, because you’re instigating again.” Adriah’s dark eyes boasted of a devilish grin. Sakusa decided right then and there that he’d keep his guard up tonight. “Have a drink and relax. It’s Friday, Tsumu.”

Sakusa snorted at the irony of Adriah telling Atsumu to ‘relax.’ Atsumu’s eyes darted to him, the smallest flicker of recognition as Sakusa pointedly ignored him. He tossed back his first drink, pocketing a mental reminder not to go overboard as he relished the sweet taste on his tongue. Down the table, he could see Tsukishima provoking Kageyama yet again over a petty squabble and Hinata trying to do his best to mediate. Bokuto and Inunaki were caught up in an intense discussion about which bakery sold the best birthday cakes, and Konoha and Aran were the most normal seated at the table, engaging in serious conversation emphasized by the occasional gesture of their hands.

Sakusa finally responded to Suna. “Seijoh’s been going smoothly.” 

“You’re almost done, right?” Adriah reached to pour another round of drinks. 

“Yeah.”

“Two more companies. Then we’re done workin’ with Seijoh until shit inevitably hits the fan again.” Atsumu swatted Adriah’s elbow away. “They need to hire internal people to deal with this bullshit.”

“You can work there, then,” Sakusa said coolly. Atsumu raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, get the fuck out of MSBY.”

“Shut yer trap, Adriah. When I get above you, I’ll make yer life hell.”

“I’m fairly certain Sakusa would do the same to you, too.”

Atsumu’s head turned sharply towards Sakusa, making him flinch. “Omi Omi’s the only one I’ll be givin’ mercy to, since I’ll hafta beat him in order to get promoted.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and drank another glass of sake. His tongue itched to mention to Atsumu that he still hadn’t turned in the revisions he’d promised, nor had he sent him the finalized agreement that he was supposed to send over to Seijoh before Monday. But the reprimands died on his tongue before they had a chance to materialize, because Atsumu tilted his head back in easy laughter at something Adriah said. Sakusa looked away.

Somehow, he summoned strength into his vocal cords with a dry, “No mercy will be given before or after said promotion is given.”

Atsumu’s mouth tilted up as he licked his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Have you heard the rumors that Meian’s gonna jump ship?” Adriah said. His eyes lit up. Somehow, he was always at the center of company gossip. Or maybe he was the source. Sakusa had no idea.

“‘Course he is.”

Suna hummed. “He’s been here three years, right?”

“Yeah. Meian started workin’ at MSBY same year as Barnes.”

“Where would he even go, though?”

Adriah shrugged. “Inunaki and I have been creeping on his outlook calendar.” Sakusa frowned. Was it appropriate for Adriah and Inunaki to be looking at Meian’s calendar? It made sense for Inunaki, who managed the man’s schedule, but he was pretty sure Adriah wasn’t supposed to have access to it. “He has a _lot_ of calls with the Adlers, so maybe there?”

“Didn’t Meian say he would never go back there?”

“But if they’re offering him a VP level with higher pay and more stock options, why not leave?” Adriah paused his conspiracy theory as side dishes were brought out to crowd the table. Sakusa helped himself to fish cakes and kimchi, piling on a small scoop of rice onto his plate. Adriah poked at the broiled mackerel as he continued. “I hear they have a flexible commuting policy, too. My friend from university works there, but he’s based out of Kyoto. He commutes to the office once a month.”

“He’s said he’s not leaving, though,” Sakusa pointed out.

“Well, yeah. It’s not like he’s going to outright announce to his entire department that he’s going to leave the company. If you ask me, he’s better off promoting Aran or Konoha to associate director and then promoting both of you to manager.” Adriah shrugged as he popped a pickled egg in his mouth. “But I guess they’re not looking that far in advance. If only one of you can get it, my money’s on Sakusa, so.”

“Hey. Shut yer trap—”

“Any slight leg up he had on you is gone now, Sakusa. Because it turns out you’re normal.”

Sakusa frowned. He wasn’t sure if Adriah had meant it in a derogatory manner despite his lighthearted tone. His vision narrowed as he squinted, trying to make sense of it, and he noticed Suna glancing back and forth between the two of them. 

“Nah.” Atsumu broke the tension through a mouthful of rice and kimchi. “Omi Omi’s weird as shit. I’m qualified to say this cuz I work with him now.”

Sakusa glanced away from Adriah’s crippling and analytical stare. It felt like he was an insect under a microscope. “Fuck off, Miya.”

“Didja know he wears the weirdest shit to sleep?” Atsumu laughed at Sakusa’s withering look. “I dunno where you go shopping, Omi-kun, but I think tie dye is out of style now.”

“Shut up.” Sakusa’s cheeks heated.

Adriah lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? You know what he wears to sleep?”

Atsumu’s smile dropped and he scowled. “You’re a turd.”

“No, no, tell me more about this tie dye.” Sakusa flushed at the insinuations layered under Adriah’s words. “Tell me more about Sakusa’s choice of nighttime wear.”

“Will you cut it out?” Atsumu mumbled.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting embarrassed now, Atsumu.”

“The only one I’m embarrassed of is _you_.” Atsumu shoved Adriah away, who laughed like a hyena before relenting.

Sakusa was still reeling in Atsumu’s snide comment about his choice of sleepwear when Adriah turned to Suna. “So when are ya finally gonna propose to Osamu-kun, eh?”

Sakusa breathed a small sigh of relief as Suna choked on his beansprouts. He was grateful for the interruption—this was all incredibly overwhelming for him, just as the happy hour had been. But this time around, he didn’t have Gin to speak with; he didn’t have cocktail after cocktail to hide behind. Sakusa’s head still lingered back at his desk, where he’d forcibly removed himself in order to come here, and it took everything in him not to feel guilty over it.

“Are you feelin’ alright, Omi?” Atsumu’s voice broke through his thoughts. He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the table, sharp eyes never wavering, not even for a moment. “Why do you look more stressed here than at the office earlier today?”

“I’m not stressed,” Sakusa said, more terse than he intended. He made an effort to clench his fists tight before relaxing them, a method that only sometimes worked.

Atsumu threw his hands up in faux surrender. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

Sakusa cursed at the familiar churning in his stomach. Atsumu lifted his sake glass to his lips, gaze fixed firmly on Sakusa’s face, and he took a sip from it. He tried to ignore the knees that brushed against his under the table, or the way Atsumu’s expensive pants grazed the edges of Sakusa’s calves when he stretched his legs all the way out. His nerves stemmed from more than just eating dinner with his department, though Sakusa couldn’t bring himself to say it—not yet.

“It’s nice to see you here,” Atsumu said, almost absentmindedly, words leaving his mouth before he even seemed to register that he was saying it. No one else heard it—Suna was still giving excuses to Adriah, and the other end of the table was still enraptured in sake-driven conversations—but Sakusa did. 

He gave a tiny nod that he hoped could convey whatever he was feeling, and if he went by the curve of Atsumu’s lips in a small smile, he guessed that it worked, and Atsumu understood.

* * *

Sakusa busied himself more with eating than speaking, offering to take charge of cooking the meat, making sure nothing turned out too rubbery, that everyone’s plates were always fed, and that he didn’t flinch every time Atsumu’s leg came in contact with his again. Sakusa chatted with Suna and Adriah, and even Bokuto, who’d clambered over after having half a bottle of sake with a deep flush that reached his neck.

Sakusa listened politely to Bokuto as he bemoaned how Akaashi-from-legal wouldn’t even look his way whenever he stopped by (to which Sakusa reasoned that it was probably because Akaashi was busy working, and Atsumu had snorted and said, “Of course that’s yer response, Omi Omi”). When the check came and Inunaki issued the corporate card, Sakusa picked up the cut up orange that the waiter had brought out, popping a slice in his mouth and twirling the toothpick in his hand.

Atsumu did the same thing, toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he typed something on his phone. He flicked the toothpick up and down between his lips, chewing on it as he reached for another piece.

Sakusa caught himself staring once again. He’d started doing that more, he noticed. Now that he’d accepted the fact that he found Atsumu attractive—as in, he would’ve probably offered to sleep with him if they weren’t 1. coworkers, and 2. rivals—Sakusa’s eyes lingered _everywhere._ Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu’s waist. Hell, even Atsumu’s fingers. 

Sakusa forced himself to look away at Aran, Konoha, and Inunaki, who stood up. The rest followed, Hinata giggling as he tugged at Kageyama’s arm towards the door.

“Could they be any more obvious?” Suna muttered. 

“Thank you for the dinner, Inunaki-san,” Sakusa said. He towered over Inunaki, but he’d always felt as though Inunaki’s presence stood larger than anyone else’s. “It was delicious.”

“Glad you made it out this time, Sakusa. I was wondering if I should’ve just stopped saving seats for you.” Inunaki grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to see your whole department show up for a last-minute event like this.”

Sakusa nodded as he stepped out of the restaurant. The chilly air greeted him and he made sure to zip up his jacket, pulling the hood over his head. True to the earlier foreboding of a storm, persistent rain poured down. Tsukishima popped open an umbrella and left without saying a word, though he did offer a curt nod of acknowledgement as he passed by.

“Where are you headed?” Atsumu asked. He lifted a hand as Inunaki drove away, Adriah in the seat beside him, and Aran, Konoha, and Suna squashed in the back. 

“Back home. Where else?”

“Ah.” A pause. Atsumu shuffled to the side to make room for other people exiting the restaurant. “Not back to the office?”

“Funny.”

“I’m being serious.” Atsumu pulled his suit jacket over his head and wrinkled his nose. His hair frizzed in the humidity of the rain. “Just makin’ sure you’re not pullin’ none of that ridiculous bullshit again.”

“Oh, it’ll happen again. I bet it’ll happen soon.” Sakusa attempted to push all of his hair under his hood, to no avail. He really needed a haircut. “Not tonight, though. I’m tired.”

“Do you want a ride?”

Sakusa stilled.

“I don’t mind givin’ one to you. Yer place ain’t too far from here, right?” Atsumu gestured at the parking lot, where a familiar car glazed with rainwater sat idle. “You’ll get drenched on the way to the metro.”

Sakusa had actually been planning on calling a rideshare, but he didn’t think this was important to admit. Atsumu fished out his car key from his pocket and spun it around his index finger, mere centimeters from Sakusa’s nose. “Wadaya say?”

“Are you sure you can drive?” Sakusa asked. He’d seen Atsumu drink, although it was nowhere near as much as they’d shared together before.

“Yeah, I only had two drinks. Sake, too, so barely nothin’.” Atsumu gave him a crooked grin. “Consider it the ride back I owe you for gettin’ me in Sendai.”

Sakusa looked back at the pouring rain and conceded without much of a fight. “Okay.”

Atsumu unlocked the car doors from across the lot and said, “I’m makin’ a run for it.” With his suit jacket still held over his head like a cheap tent that did little to keep the rainwater at bay, Atsumu sprinted across the lot. Sakusa, followed in swift pursuit, shoes sloshing.

Sakusa climbed into the familiar passenger seat of Atsumu’s car and wiped at the water that coated his face. “That was unpleasant.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Atsumu tossed his jacket in the backseat of his car and adjusted himself, wet clothes squeaking against the leather seats. “Ah, fuck. I don’t have any paper towels either.”

“You look like a wet dog.”

In response, Atsumu shook his hair violently back and forth, spraying water across the front of his car and on Sakusa. 

Sakusa shielded himself the best he could, but there was only so much he could do when he was soaked through. His coat did little to take care of the pool of water that collected under his ass, and his shoulders reflexively hunched. His hands were cold.

Atsumu started the engine and flicked on the windshield wipers. Warm air blasted through the vent, and within seconds, Sakusa stopped shivering. He glanced over at Atsumu. The slight frizziness of his hair had erupted in total disarray, and Sakusa knew he’d be lying if he said Atsumu didn’t look good like this.

After clicking in his seatbelt, Atsumu twisted in his seat to back out of his parking lot, allowing Sakusa to catch a generous glimpse of his neck glistening with rain. Sakusa stuck his hand in front of the vents, hoping that his frigid fingers would warm up. 

“So what didja think?” Atsumu asked. He turned back forward again and shifted the car from reverse to drive. 

“Think about what?”

“Dinner.”

“It was nice.” Sakusa pushed his hood back and used his scarf to mop at his forehead. “I liked the kalbi.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The car hummed down the street. Atsumu had one arm propped up against the door, steering with the other. 

Sakusa stared at the blurred lights passing by, the rhythmic and mechanical thumping of the windshield wipers cutting through the silence. He felt exhausted all of a sudden. Another week had passed. Another week had ended. That was how it always went. “It was fine.”

“You always get all clammed up around other people, y’know that?”

“Just because I don’t talk much—”

“And I always thought it was cuz you were a prick.” Atsumu shot him an apologetic look as Sakusa snorted. He’d thought the same—and honestly, still sometimes thought the same—about Atsumu. “But you’re just not much of a talker.”

“I never really have much to contribute to conversations.”

“Hmm.” Atsumu glanced quickly at Sakusa as he turned at the light. “I bet the wheels in that head of yers are always turnin’.”

Sakusa snorted. “Unlike yours.”

“Hah! See? You’re funny. I dunno why you’re also stewin’ about in yer angsty emo mode all the time.” 

Sakusa sat in silence as Atsumu jumped through channels on the radio. He never found himself to be funny. Nor did he ever think other people would find him funny, either. He was just tired, and had very little patience for bullshit or other shenanigans, but Atsumu showed that he didn’t mind. In fact, he showed—with the gentle upwards slope of his lips glowing from the passing streetlights—that he liked it.

Sakusa’s chest tightened. He’d never felt liked before. That wasn’t part of his job description.

The ride was over far sooner than Sakusa expected, mostly because his mind was preoccupied with overthinking and overanalyzing. He glanced over at Atsumu and swallowed, wanting to say something, but not knowing where to start.

“I’ll getcha my finalized reports tomorrow morning,” Atsumu said as he pulled up to the curb. Sakusa stared at him, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. “The template contracts ain’t done yet, unfortunately, but hopefully I’ll get ‘em done by Monday.”

“Oh.” Sakusa blinked. “Okay.”

“Wish I had an excuse, but Johzenji took a little longer than I expected.”

“It’s fine,” Sakusa said. He pulled his hood back on and made sure his zipper was pulled up to his neck. “I’m not your boss, Miya. You can get things done on your own time.”

“Eh. But you’re my partner, I guess. So I gotta try to keep you in the loop.” Atsumu unlocked the car door. Sakusa tucked his bag under his arm and gave one last forced smile to Atsumu.

“Thanks for the ride,” Sakusa said as he stepped out of the car. Atsumu’s body seemed to chase him, still buckled down in the driver’s seat, and he rolled down the window to lean across the seats. He didn’t seem to care that water was getting in his car or on his expensive leather seats. Rain water spilled from the crown of Sakusa’s head down the edges of his hood, a few catching on the stray curls that refused to remain safely under the cover. 

“No problem.”

“I know it’s an inconvenience, so I—”

“It’s not an inconvenience, Omi Omi. That’s what friends are for.” Atsumu smiled and gave a wave. “G’night.”

Sakusa stepped back from the side of the street as the tires of Atsumu’s car peeled from the curb. He was left on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, the chill of Tokyo nights settling against his skin as rain spilled across his body, highlighting that, in his overthinking and over-feeling about everything related to Miya Atsumu, Sakusa had overlooked one very small detail: he had a friend.


	15. the one after hours

Sakusa was going to kill someone, and that someone could’ve very well been Miya Atsumu.

“You  _ said _ you took care of them.”

“I did!” Atsumu sputtered, face scrunched tight to the point where it had to be painful. “I sent them off to Akagi, but he must not have seen it in time. I missed the follow up because…well, actually, I don’t really have an excuse. I should’ve followed up. But it was  _ Akagi _ who dropped the ball initially. Then I dropped the ball after. Uh…so we both dropped the ball.”

Sakusa groaned. They were on a deadline—Seijoh specifically requested to finalize the report and updated contract with Inarizaki so they could resume business as soon as possible. More specifically, Seijoh wanted to have Inarizaki perform services for them  _ tomorrow, _ a hard-pressed deadline for sure, especially considering the fact that they were still missing follow up documentation that Inarizaki was supposed to provide two weeks ago. “Miya, this should’ve been done—”

“Will you cut it out? I know I fucked up.” Atsumu sat along the edge of Sakusa’s desk, arms crossed, looking equally as frustrated as Sakusa felt. It was already afternoon—Sakusa had been in back-to-back meetings and Atsumu, as far as he knew, had been fucking around. “I don’t needja to—”

“Oikawa’s asking. Not even Iwaizumi-san, who’s the direct contact for Inarizaki.” Sakusa chewed his lower lip. He couldn’t put into words the intense flip his stomach did when an unknown caller ID showed up on his mobile and Oikawa’s voice was the one that answered when he picked up. “Oikawa called me directly just now. You know what that means, right?”

“That he’s comfortable enough to finally pay you a call even if you’re a complete dick?”

“Cut it out. This isn’t a joke.” Sakusa snapped before he could control himself. The past week had been going smoothly—too smoothly, actually, and he should’ve suspected something like this was bound to happen. Fukurodani’s review had gone too well, he’d gotten into too few disagreements, and Atsumu had been too polite and kind to him. As much as Sakusa wanted to believe that good karma existed, he knew that Murphy’s law existed in tandem, and anything that had the potential of going wrong would go wrong. “You may just cost us the entire reputation we’ve built with Seijoh.”

Atsumu’s eyes narrowed. “Now yer bein’ a little dramatic.”

“No, I’m not. This isn’t just some one-off thing we have going—”

“Just ask them for an extension—”

“They already have their source documents loaded for Inarizaki’s review. They want MSBY to continue providing as-needed oversight.”

“Ask if they can just wait—”

“They’re pushing to get this done before the end of quarter.” Sakusa shook his head. Any way he sliced it, this wasn’t good. Something to do about a potential grant they want to apply for. “This can’t wait any longer, and both of us know it.” Sakusa thumbed through the marked up report that Atsumu had put together. Akagi was supposed to address the comments; Atsumu was supposed to incorporate them into his draft assessment report. This wasn’t supposed to be this hard. This wasn’t supposed to take more than a couple of days. 

Atsumu took a deep breath. He looked disheveled this time. Sakusa felt a pang of sympathy for him, because he knew that Atsumu had been working his ass off to close out the previous reports, going back-and-forth with all the vendors they’d reviewed to make sure that they fulfilled Seijoh’s requirements and updated the necessary procedures to remain fit for having active contracts. Sakusa more or less had taken on the responsibility for closing out the final two company reviews, which he hadn’t minded, but he’d expected better than this.

“I hope you’re ready to face Oikawa’s wrath,” Sakusa muttered. He glanced at the clock on the wall that ticked by, inching closer to his death. That’s how it felt, sometimes—like Sakusa was wasting away in this office, and every mishap and fire that popped up shaved off more and more time that he didn’t have the energy to hold on to. “They’re going to be pissed if this isn’t done.”

“I’ll get it done—”

“Miya. It’s past five. Are they even still in the office? Are  _ you _ planning on even staying in the office?”

Atsumu pursed his lips. He’d been waiting for Sakusa at his desk as soon as Sakusa had returned from a grueling two-hour call with Komi and his team at Fukurodani. There’d been a lot of holes in some of their written policies, and Sakusa anticipated that all of their list of action items would remain open for a while. The last thing he’d wanted to come back to was  _ this. _ “I emailed Akagi real fast when I realized that he’d never sent back the documents I requested. He replied, like, right away. I think he realized he fucked up.”

“Tell him to work after hours for it.”

“He’s plannin’ on it, but—”

“But what, Miya?” Sakusa snapped. He couldn’t help it. He’d trusted Atsumu with the follow up; that trust was coming back to bite him in the ass. Maybe this was why he had trust issues. He had a lot of things to think about, but no mental energy, time, or space to do so. “Please. Tell me you have a way to remedy this mess. It’s the close of the business day and Seijoh expects to have Inarizaki reporting for duty by nine in the morning tomorrow. How the fuck do you plan on fixing this?”

Atsumu chewed at his lip. Sakusa was annoyed for a couple reasons—first of all, Atsumu should have notified him sooner that a mistake had been made; both parties had dropped the ball on this thing. Second, Atsumu should have followed up with Akagi last week. He’d been so sure to tell Sakusa that everything was fine and dandy for him, so why hadn’t he bothered to mention that the Inarizaki contact still hadn’t responded to his email?

And third, Sakusa was pissed at himself. He should have followed up, too—he wasn’t Atsumu’s boss by any means, but he had a functioning brain and superior organizational skills that may have very well been able to avoid this sort of situation.

It was Atsumu’s fault, yeah, and Akagi’s fault, but it was also Sakusa’s responsibility.

“Have you called Akagi?” Sakusa asked. He forced himself to let go of his emotions and think solely with his logic and reason. “Even if you think you can somehow scramble to put together a final audit report and all the evidence of Inarizaki’s progress towards process improvement…”

“I just got off the phone with Akagi and Kita when you called.” Atsumu straightened a bit. The mention of Kita—not  _ Shinsuke _ —caught Sakusa’s attention, but Atsumu barreled on. “I had to ask if they were available for final signature for the contract and for the finalization of all the supporting documentation.”

“And they agreed to it?”

Atsumu nodded moodily. He’d ditched his suit jacket for a wool cardigan sweater that looked similar to something Sakusa could’ve sworn he’d seen Osamu wear. “They said they’d stay online for it, and we could just call or email if they needed anything. But I dunno how I can—”

“So they’re working after hours?”

Atsumu nodded.

“Okay.” The gears in Sakusa’s mind began to churn as he sorted out what needed to get done: Atsumu needed to remind Akagi about the supporting documentation he’d provided, Akagi needed to locate and provide it, Atsumu had to review it, and, potentially, ask for even more. Then Atsumu had to complete his draft report, have it peer-reviewed, then sort out the contract technicalities with Fukurodani’s legal group prior to issuing the final contract to Meian and MSBY.

No pressure or anything.

Sakusa glanced once more at the clock. This wasn’t the time he’d usually leave at, so he didn’t mind potentially staying late in the office, but he did mind that he was once again picking up slack from the coworkers who’d fucked up in the first place. Call him a bit of a narcissist, but Sakusa expected better from someone competing for the same position as him.

“Has Akagi gotten back to you?”

“Uh…he sent about a quarter of what I asked for.” Atsumu slid his phone out of his pocket and clicked through his emails. “I was thinkin’ about drivin’ over there and gettin’ it myself, but Akagi said the office wouldn’t have been open for visitors.”

Sakusa snorted. He detected bullshit—though it wasn’t his place to say. “I cannot believe you let this slip through the cracks.”

“I know—”

“ _Do_ you? This could cost us the entirety of good relations we’ve built _directly_ with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, not just the relations between Seijoh and MSBY.” Sakusa shook his head, curls flopping side to side. He was not pleased, and he could feel it in the tightness between his brows and running along the tendons in his jaw. “I just can’t believe you let it pile up like this.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It was Inarizaki. I didn’t even realize they hadn’t even responded until I—” Atsumu cut himself off. He didn’t try to make eye contact with Sakusa, nor did he really seem all that invested in pleading his case. Instead, he hung his head in shame. Sakusa tried very, very hard not to allow his annoyance to overpower his sense of reason, and he took a few breaths to remedy it. It didn’t really work.

“And?”

“And I—it’ll get done, Omi Omi. I just thought I should talk to you to because…well, you know.” Atsumu adjusted himself opposite from where Sakusa sat, slouched back. Atsumu’s spine was pin-straight and his blonde locks tumbled effortlessly to the side. “Like it or not, but my failures are closely tied to yers. I’m sorry to drag you down like this.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” Sakusa mumbled, but when Atsumu raised an eyebrow expectedly, Sakusa covered it up by clearing his throat. “What has Akagi sent you, exactly?”

“The six updated draft policies that you gave feedback for when we were at Inarizaki’s office.” Atsumu spoke in tight words strung up only by the mild professionalism act that he and Sakusa maintained. “I’m still waiting on the rest, as well as Inarizaki’s internal reviews.”

“Okay.” Sakusa glanced at the clock again, as if significant time had passed. “If Akagi can send the rest in the next couple hours, we should be fine—assuming Oikawa is available to sign off on the final contract. He can sign it tomorrow, if he wants. It doesn’t really matter; it just needs to be fully executed before Inarizaki starts performing work. We just need to make sure both parties agree to it. We’ll probably finish a little late today, but that should be fine.”

Sakusa’s mind already began spinning with the long list of ‘to do’ items. His mind registered that Atsumu was staring. “What?”

Atsumu tilted his head to the side. “You don’t have to stay behind.”

“We’re both responsible for it, Miya.” Sakusa closed his file shut and gestured to Atsumu’s desk, which lay deserted. Their coworkers had slowly begun to filter out, what with the close of the workday closing in on them fast.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed. Maybe it was a glimmer of annoyance, or relief, or some combination thereof. “But you don’t have to do that.”

“Well. I am.” Sakusa pulled up his email and clicked on the latest communication he’d receive from Akagi. “I’m not letting you fuck this up so bad that I get dinged, too.”

“You wouldn’t get dinged.”

“I’d get dinged, and you know it.” Sakusa looked pointedly at Atsumu. “Right?”

Atsumu nodded. His eyes lingered on Sakusa, like he wanted to say more. Sakusa stared right back, challenging him to press further on this, but Atsumu didn’t. Rather than the grating accusations and commentary, Atsumu merely chewed his lip as his eyes slid to the floor. 

It struck Sakusa how six-weeks-ago-Atsumu would have probably said something snarky back. Talk about character development.

“Well?” 

“Nothin’.” Atsumu cleared his throat and turned back towards his desk. “Let me get my document, and I’ll forward you all the shit that Akagi sent me. Unless you were copied originally—”

“I wasn’t.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll forward them right on over.” Atsumu took one last glance. “Oh, uh, and thanks. For helpin’.” He walked off across the office, stopping momentarily to exchange a quick chat with Hinata, and Sakusa sighed. He didn’t have time to make sense of Atsumu’s lingering gazes or selective  _ ‘thank you’ _ s. He’d been planning on heading home at six, fixing himself a dinner, and collapsing into bed at an absurdly early hour.

But as Atsumu returned back to his desk, lugging along his laptop and his rolling chair that comfortably seated him for hours at a time, Sakusa knew that he wouldn’t have minded it—so long as he wasn’t alone.

* * *

Working late wasn’t actually terrible. The office was quiet and empty, as was Sakusa’s inbox. He knew there’d be emails coming in, but it would never compare to the constant barrage he received during the day. Sakusa always felt like he worked better in an office, anyway, rather than in the confines of his apartment. It got lonely, sometimes, and a little depressing, but it was a small price to pay for privacy and peace.There were times when other people would linger, but once the latest acceptable dinner time approached, Sakusa often had the office to himself. 

It was unusual to have anyone else around, especially Atsumu. They weren’t even really talking to each other—Atsumu had hooked up extra monitors in the large conference room so they could exchange verbal words instead of incoherent instant messages. Sakusa sat opposite of him, eyes beginning to strain from staring at the screen, and when he checked the time, he cursed. It was just past eight at night, and he still had two of Inarizaki’s reports to read through.

“Omi-kun.”

Sakusa glanced up. “What?”

“I think you should take a look at section 7B of the proposed contract,” Atsumu said. Over the course of the evening, he’d begun to unravel. His tie was nowhere to be found. “They want to limit client audits—”

“If it’s within the standard one-year limitations, that’s fine.”

“Yeah, but that includes for-cause audits, too.” Atsumu slid a document across the table to him. He rubbed at his eyes and jabbed a pen towards a circled section. “Judging by Inarizaki’s internal history, ya might wanna reconsider.”

“Did I mention that in the report?”

“No.”

“Shit.” Sakusa skimmed Atsumu’s page. He grew keenly aware of Atsumu watching him do so, and he felt much like an animal in a zoo. Was it his working style that caught Atsumu’s attention? “Okay. I’ll add it.”

“Thanks. I dunno if Inarizaki would be the type to compromise on this if they weren’t given any evidence as to why they’d have to incorporate it.” Atsumu jotted down something in his notebook. He looked different—he looked tired. “Knowing Kita, I think he’d use this contract as word of god to prohibit any for-cause audits.”

“Have you finished the draft policies?”

“I got one left after this one. I already sent back comments to Akagi and drafted the action item memo for them.”

“Seijoh should probably sign off on that, too. It’ll be their responsibility to provide oversight. Make sure you send it to Oikawa for his signature.”

Atsumu nodded. “Yeah, yer right.” He didn’t move to type anything in his email though, and instead he kept staring at Sakusa. Sakusa tried to ignore it as best as he could, but it was a little hard to do that, especially when his heart rate ticked up far faster than he would have ever wanted.

“Can I help you?” Sakusa asked as he clicked into another file.

Atsumu chewed on his lip. He, once again, looked like he wanted to say something more.

“What?”

“It’s just—I’m sorry that you have—”

“Will you stop apologizing?” Sakusa snapped. “I fucking hate it when people apologize too much.”

Atsumu blinked. He elicited a small breathy laugh, bringing his fingers to run in through his hair. Sakusa’s fingertips twitched, recalling how soft his hair had been that night Atsumu had slumped against the bar.

He had no business looking that good.

His hair had no business being that soft.

“I just appreciate it, that’s all.”

Sakusa snorted when he glanced away and prayed that the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t visible to the naked eye. “You appreciate things?”

Atsumu's mouth turned upwards, and Sakusa’s breath caught in his throat. It was bad, he decided: everything about how his body responded to Atsumu was bad. “Not often, but once every blue moon, somethin’ comes around.”

His eyes settled on Sakusa. If he were stronger, Sakusa might just try to maintain it, but Sakusa was not accustomed to a rush of emotions that it incited. 

And so, Sakusa cleared his throat, said “Get back to work, Miya.” Atsumu’s eyes remained planted on him, but Sakusa ignored the feeling, ignored the glow in his chest. He’d come to accept that Atsumu was someone he was attracted to, both biologically and sexually. It came at a price, though, and in this case, the price of interest was Sakusa’s sanity.

Sakusa remained tethered to the sinking feeling of dread and attraction. The two weren’t mutually exclusive, and he realized that now. How the hell was he supposed to cope with that?

Atsumu arrived back in the conference room before Sakusa could reach a decision. 

* * *

“Let’s take a break.”

“We don’t need a break.”

“You can’t just work non-stop—”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I don’t mean you can’t. I mean you  _ shouldn’t _ work non-stop.” Atsumu yawned as he stretched his arms up. The glittering sharpness he usually carried had dimmed. “Shit. I need some caffeine. I think there’s some green tea in the cabinet, maybe some oolong. Do you want anything?”

Sakusa paused. He’d grown accustomed to drinking caffeine at late hours, but never  _ this _ late. His eyelids already struggled to keep open; Oikawa had responded to some of their drafts and provided feedback that was useful but frustrating, because Sakusa wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.

Before he had a chance to answer, Atsumu stood up. “I’m gonna fall asleep if I don’t get somethin’. I’ll fix up some tea but you don’t hafta drink any if you don’t want to.” Atsumu passed by Sakusa, offering quick pats of his hand on his shoulder—once, twice—which made Sakusa do a double take. His mind had barely registered the physical contact when it disappeared, and Atsumu was leaving the room once more.

The silence of the room echoed. Sakusa slumped back in his chair and squeezed his eyes tight. There was nothing overtly interesting or exciting about shoulder pats, but Atsumu wasn’t the kind of person to offer physical touch of encouragement, at least not to Sakusa. Sakusa had seen Atsumu wrap his arm around Hinata’s shoulders and he’d seen Atsumu give Bokuto fist bumps. But never with him.

Sakusa tried to shake himself out of it. This was never a good sign—his mind was unraveling, much like his will to power through and finish out the rest of the night. He was used to working on a deadline; he practically spent all of his university years trying not to fall too far behind, pulling back-to-back all-nighters in order to make sure his work was completed and completed  _ well _ prior to submission.

If Sakusa really focused on the final edits, they’d be done before midnight. His shoulders hurt from hunching over the computer and his wrists were stiff, too—never a good sign. Sakusa figured he could spare a few minutes to take a quick walk around the office. He stood up and locked his computer, grabbing his phone before pushing his way out of the conference room. Sakusa stopped quickly by his desk to snatch his  _ MEMENTO MORI  _ mug, and his legs took him to his destination before he even realized where he was going.

He found Atsumu rummaging through drawers while mumbling to himself. The back of his hair stuck up, a byproduct of the past few hours he’d spent slumped against the back of his chair. His body from behind was severely under appreciated, Sakusa decided, because it was only from behind that he could see the dramatic contrast of his waist to his shoulders and down to his hips. 

Sakusa swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on Atsumu’s waist. That was the problem.

“Ah, didja decide you wanted some?” Atsumu turned, yanking Sakusa out from his inner emotional turmoil, and he gave him a sly grin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist some fine herbal caffeinated tea.”

Sakusa stepped cautiously towards him, careful to put enough distance between them to remain appropriate. He’d heard stories of employees being caught after hours, and even if the office was deserted, he didn’t want to take chances. “I think the beverage packets are above the sink.”

“You’d know that, wouldn’t ya?” Atsumu opened the cabinet. The corner of his tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth. “All those late nights here.”

“Unfortunately.”

Atsumu’s eyes traced the boxes as he skimmed the words typed in precise Kanji. “Oh. Oolong.” 

Beside them, the electric kettle whirred. Sakusa busied himself by pulling out paper cups from the dispenser, but there was only so much he could use as a distraction. Sakusa leaned against the counter, crossed his arms, and sighed. He wanted to go home.

“Do you usually hang out here this late?” Atsumu asked. He pulled down a box of tea leaves and spooned some into an empty glass teapot.

“In the office?” Atsumu nodded. “Rarely.”

“I thought you were here every night.”

“No. I usually leave around seven.”

“But you’re always workin’ at night.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Atsumu snorted. He stepped next to Sakusa as the sound of the electric kettle accelerated much like the beating in Sakusa’s rib cage. “Yer emails, dumbass. And sometimes I’ll see you online.”

“I work from home.” For some reason, Sakusa’s face warmed, and he almost felt defensive over Atsumu’s comments. He realized that he’d felt that way a lot of the time not just towards Atsumu, but towards his entire office, and he didn’t know what to do with it. “I pick up dinner on the way home, eat, and then work.”

“Can’t you just…relax?”

Sakusa stared.

“I don’t mean that in a condescendin’ way, Omi Omi. You know that.”

“Do I?” Sakusa muttered.

Atsumu placed one hand on his hip—an unfair move, really—and raised an eyebrow to issue a challenge. Sakusa knew that look, and it infuriated him before. It infuriated him now, but for a completely different reason. “I know I pull some late hours, too, but it’s not a usual thing for me. It shouldn’t be a usual thing for you either.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“Is it workin’?”

“No.”

“Fair.” Atsumu let loose a bark of laughter that jumped off the walls. Sakusa watched while he reached for the kettle to pour steam water into the teapot. He watched as the dried tea leaves danced in the water.

“I really don’t work as late as you think I do,” Sakusa reassured him, but even as he said it, he questioned why he felt the need to justify his actions, or at least make him seem less insane than Atsumu had already gathered from working with him for the past several weeks. 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“I take weekends off.”

“Bullshit. I got six emails last Saturday from you before it even hit noon.”

“It’s not—”

“I’m right. Yer wrong.” Atsumu held up a finger. “Cute how you try to lie from my face even though there’s literal concrete evidence that says otherwise.”

Sakusa exhaled deeply as he tipped his head back until he felt the wooden cupboard pressed against the curve of his skull. “It’s part of the job, Miya.”

“For you, maybe. But listen, I ain’t complainin’ that you’re stayin’ here late. You don’t gotta clean up my messes, but yer doin’ it anyway, and I owe you one.”

Sakusa cracked open an eye only to find Atsumu staring back at him. 

He was terrified of what he found there, for more than a few reasons.

“Miya—”

“Have you started preparin’ for yer interview, Omi Omi?” 

Sakusa blinked at the sudden change of topic. Any tension he’d thought was building before evaporated immediately, and surprisingly, relief coursed through him along with a tinge of disappointment. “Uh. Not really.”

“Don’t forget to.”

“I’m not gonna forget to—”

“Cuz I know you’re so busy with all this bullshit that you haven’t even thought about it.” Atsumu carefully poured out two servings of tea and slid one cup towards Sakusa. He picked up the other, holding it between his hands as he pursed his lips to blow on it softly. He joined beside Sakusa, propping himself against the counter, so close that if Sakusa leaned even a fraction of a degree to the left, his shoulder would be in contact with Atsumu’s. “If I’m bein’ honest, I kinda forgot about it.”

Sakusa nodded, staring at the dark translucent amber liquid in his cup. He sipped tentatively at it. It wasn’t quite the whiskey on the rocks he’d grown accustomed to, but it would do.

“Why do you want it anyway?” Atsumu sipped his tea, wincing at the scalding liquid. 

“What do you mean, why do I want it?”

“I dunno. You don’t seem to love yer job that much. You’re miserable all the time. So I’m just wonderin’ why this is even worth it to you.”

It was a fair question. Sakusa had asked himself that time and time again, anyway: why even bother? Atsumu had once told him that if he hated his job so much, he should just save himself the hassle and just quit. He’d be able to find another job elsewhere, anyway.

But Sakusa saw things through to the end. He didn’t know how to explain this to Atsumu, how his strength was not how good he was or how smart he was or how charismatic he was. Sakusa’s strength was in his perseverance, in committing his full one-hundred percent in everything he did, and in his drive to do things well.

“I’ve worked hard,” Sakusa answered, matter-of-fact as he always had been. “I put everything I have into my work, and it shows. I think that counts for something.”

“Yeah, but should that be everythin’?” Atsumu looked like he wanted to say more but quickly dropped it. Sakusa was grateful, because he didn’t think he was ready to have this philosophical discussion at eleven at night while drinking a cup of oolong tea. “Well. I guess you’d better prepare then.”

“So you haven’t started preparing, either.”

“Hell nah.” Atsumu shrugged, and Sakusa felt the movement beside him. “Do I strike you as the kinda person who’d prepare in advance?”

“Before I’d say no. But I think you try to make it seem that way on purpose.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, and Sakusa held his breath. He hadn’t offered many thoughts about what he thought of Atsumu in any way, mostly because Atsumu was typically the one that was busy psychoanalyzing him. But he’d come to his conclusions on his own, and although here was a lot about Miya Atsumu that hadn’t yet been overturned, Sakusa had gotten a feel for what he was really like.

Sakusa glanced back at Atsumu right as his eyes flickered up from his chin to Sakusa’s eyes. In them, there was a storm, one that Sakusa itched to lose himself in.

But Sakusa Kiyoomi never lost himself. He made mistakes, sure, and he backtracked a few times, but he never, ever got lost.

Atsumu tipped the scales such that Sakusa  _ wanted _ to lose himself, and as far as he was aware, no human had exhibited the ability to do so. Even Atsumu hadn’t, not all those weeks ago. His expensive suits and flashy shoes and bright smile did little to mitigate the rage Sakusa had felt towards him. Yet here he was, standing too close to be considered appropriate to Sakusa, with eyes that smoldered under the ugly fluorescent lights of the kitchenette. 

Sakusa wanted to tear his gaze away, but he found he couldn’t. Atsumu was simply too mesmerizing, like the golden hour sunsets that Sakusa sometimes caught burning through the windows of MSBY’s office complex. It wasn’t just his appearance, either—he vibrated with an energy, a vitality that Sakusa had never experienced or known.

“Omi,” Atsumu said, more of a murmur than anything.

Sakusa was struck with the not-so-startling realization that he wanted Atsumu to kiss him.

He wouldn’t make the first move. He couldn’t. There was a whole section in the HR handbook, a how-to and how-not-to outline, that detailed precisely what sort of relationships  _ should not _ have existed. That didn’t stop people from trying, of course, nor did it stop Sakusa’s impulsive feelings from blossoming with eagerness and persistence that he’d so desperately tried to stop.

Did he like Atsumu? He wasn’t exactly sure. He’d grown to tolerate his company, and somehow, that tolerance had grown into indifference, which grew into something more, and now, he couldn’t quite imagine being at MSBY without Atsumu’s incessant ramblings thrown into the mix.

“Miya—”

“We should get back to work.” Atsumu cleared his throat and rinsed out the teapot. He pointedly avoided eye contact with Sakusa, which stung. Sakusa hated that it stung.

“Thanks for the tea,” Sakusa said softly, and he noticed the confession registering in Atsumu’s body as his shoulders relaxed.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t the only one suffering.

* * *

The last email flew out of Sakusa’s outbox, fully prepared for Oikawa’s final signature and approval, at precisely 11:52 PM. 

“Good work,” Atsumu said, but it sounded half-hearted. Sakusa thought he’d feel satisfied and victorious about completing everything before the deadline, but he didn’t. He just felt tired.

“If this ever happens again,” Sakusa said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “you’re on your own.”

“Noted.” Atsumu laughed and began packing his bags. “Leave yer laptops and shit. I’ll get IT to pick everythin’ up tomorrow mornin’.”

Sakusa nodded. The pressure of impending doom had dissipated, leaving him empty. He  _ was _ pleased, or about as pleased as you could be when you worked nearly six hours past when you thought you’d be leaving. He picked up his belongings and wordlessly left the room. Fatigue tickled the corner of his eyes and found its way into his bones.

He left the dirty mug at his desk and left a post-it note on it reminding him to wash it and left his laptop in the drawer. Tonight was a night where Sakusa didn’t feel the need to bring it home, which was rare. He pulled out his keys and locked the drawer, signifying the rare instance where he left work at work and—although it was at midnight, and that probably didn’t count—it felt like a first.

“Lemme give you a ride.”

Sakusa looked up at Atsumu, suit jacket tossed over one shoulder. “Thanks, but—”

“C’mon.” Atsumu smiled crookedly. “I owe ya.”

Sakusa nodded and stood. As they cut through the office’s stillness to go home, he glanced at Atsumu and swallowed the pounding in his chest. It was easier, he decided, settling his emotions with fleeting moments that ended almost before they began. It was safer, too, and Sakusa had to keep it that way.

Why was it, then, that every time Sakusa thought he could steal a peek at him, Atsumu was already looking?

He followed Atsumu to the car in the basement parking garage. Sakusa almost said something a few times. He almost denied the ride—but in reality, he really didn’t want to put up with public transportation and the brisk walk at such a late hour—and he almost addressed the growing thickness that squeezed around them. 

Atsumu would occasionally look over his shoulder, as if to check and make sure Sakusa was still trailing behind him. Each glance sent Sakusa spiraling yet again into a fit of too-many-emotions and not-enough-coherent-thoughts.

“I don’t think I need GPS.” Atsumu’s voice began as a whisper and increased in volume as he started the engine. The hum was deafening in contrast to the absolute silence they’d walked in. “But if I go a weird way, just let me know.”

Sakusa nodded. “Okay.”

“Is it faster to go off the main street?”

“At this time of the night it should be. No traffic.”

“Got it.” Sakusa gave the office one last lone look as Atsumu pulled away and into the silent streets of Tokyo.

Sakusa relaxed back into his seat. There were plenty of things to be concerned about—namely, what Atsumu had mentioned: preparing for the interview—but his mind wandered off in a rebellious effort to forget about responsibilities. Sakusa had clocked in at eight this morning, and it was now midnight. Perhaps he could give himself a break.

Because he needed that—a break. If it weren’t so late, he’d ask Iizuna to come over and fix his appetite for stress relief. But Iizuna was probably already sleeping, and Sakusa knew going straight to bed would’ve been better for him.

“Miya.” The name slipped from Sakusa’s lips. They’d parted first, to form the distinct  _ Ah _ shape of the first syllable of Atsumu’s names, but he caught himself fast enough. 

“Hm?” Atsumu yawned. “What is it?”

Sakusa’s throat tightened. What exactly had he wanted to say?  _ I find you hot _ was pretty much a known fact, but didn’t seem like a great segue way into whatever conversation Sakusa wanted to steer them into.  _ I get off to you _ didn’t seem appropriate, either. 

And Sakusa definitely couldn’t verbalize the growing hook Atsumu had tethered into his chest. 

Instead, he settled for the safest option that was just as true as the previous two statements. “I feel like now’s not a bad time to say that you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were.”

A pause.

Atsumu broke out into a fit of laughter that filled his car, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. Sakusa stared. Atsumu never laughed like  _ that _ before. The closest thing Sakusa could think of were his drunken giggles.

“That’s high praise, comin’ from you.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Sakusa was once again grateful that the dim lights masked the flush spreading across his cheeks. “I don’t give it out often.”

“You mean, never?” Even in the dark, Atsumu’s face glowed. Sakusa thought about reaching forward to press the sharp edge of his jawline with the pad of his index finger, just to see how solid it was. “I don’t think I’ve heard a single word of praise from you in my  _ life. _ ”

“Now that’s—” Sakusa frowned. “—a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean? I praise—”

“I think you give credit where credit is due, Omi-kun.” Atsumu shifted his head slightly to the side so he could face Sakusa, eyes crinkling. “Hate to break it to you, but that ain’t praise. But it’s alright. I accept yer praise regardless.” Another beat of silence, then a soft, “Thank you.”

Sakusa wasn’t sure if his ‘high praise’ could’ve even counted as something worth thanking him for, but he nodded and leaned back against the seat. There were other things he could have told Atsumu, like how he’d underestimated Atsumu’s commitment to getting a job done. He could’ve told Atsumu that he’d been surprised about Atsumu’s history with Shiratorizawa, and how that impacted his career.

Sakusa could’ve said a lot, as usual. And, as usual, he kept it all to himself.

Right as Sakusa strongly contemplated screaming out loud in order to express his frustration with his current circumstances, Atsumu pulled up to the curb. It was funny, kind of, how Sakusa felt like their working relationship—or friendship, or whatever—seemed to shift and grow with various interactions in a tight and enclosed space.

“Thanks for the ride, Miya.” Sakusa gave a polite nod before reaching for the door handle.

Right when he popped it open, Atsumu’s hand struck out and grabbed Sakusa by the wrist. Sakusa flinched at the sudden contact, at Atsumu’s fingers wrapped firmly at the boniest part of his arm. He froze.

“Wait.”

Sakusa’s breath was shaky at best. “Yes?”

“Day after our interviews.” Atsumu leaned forward a bit, eyes glittering with the dim street lights from outside the car. “Let’s take a day off.”

“What are you—”

“We’ll be done with Seijoh’s contract by then.” Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were actually plannin’ on comin’ in to do work.”

Sakusa frowned. “It’s a work day. Of course I’m—”

“Aren’t you the one who said you were gonna take a break?” Atsumu’s voice took on the lighthearted, playful tone with an undercurrent of seriousness. Sakusa had no idea how he managed to do that. “C’mon. If you’re gonna take an actual vacation day, what better day than after our interviews?”

“And you want to…what now?” Sakusa asked. 

Atsumu’s eyes flashed. “Wherever the day takes us.”

Sakusa licked his lips subconsciously, and Atsumu’s eyes traced the movement. When they dragged back up to meet Sakusa’s gaze, Atsumu’s eyes widened.

Any semblance of confidence broke away. It came with Atsumu’s mouth falling open the slightest bit, a breath slipping out in silent confession. Sakusa couldn’t tell how he knew what Atsumu was thinking, but he knew that they were thinking the same thing. 

If Atsumu kissed him, Sakusa would let him. 

He’d let him do whatever he wanted.

“Miya.” Sakusa cringed at the fragile notes hanging in the area around those two syllables.

Atsumu tightened his grip on Sakusa’s wrist. “Sick day,” he said, a little breathless, a little wild, eyes never leaving Sakusa’s for a second. “We’ll take one together.”

“I think there—”

“Just stop thinkin’ for once.” Atsumu finally released Sakusa from his grip. “See you tomorrow, Omi Omi.”

Sakusa stepped out of the car and went back to his apartment feeling a mix of emotions: satisfied with getting all their work done, proud of himself for not doing anything inappropriate, slightly blue-balled from lack of said inappropriate things, and, above else, afraid of what might—or might not—happen next.

How the fuck did Sakusa manage to get himself pulled into this forbidden attraction bullshit?

The answer, like many things, escaped him.


	16. the one with the interview

> **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>, Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Manager Application — Supporting Documents
> 
> Hi Miya and Sakusa,
> 
> See list of the following requested by Meian to complete your application prior to interview:
> 
> \- Updated CV
> 
> \- Updated Job Description
> 
> \- Last year’s performance review
> 
> \- Short evaluation of each other from Seijoh’s contract
> 
> Please submit these individually to myself and Meian no later than **close of business on Friday**. 
> 
> Let me know if you have any questions.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Inunaki

* * *

> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> heard from matsukawa that your contract’s ending with seijoh
> 
> congrats!
> 
> hope u take some time off
> 
> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> I’m busy preparing for an interview, Hanamaki.
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> oh yeahhhhh. Try to win big!
> 
> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> You mean so you can win big?
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> fuck yeah babey!!!!!! :D
> 
> but also so you can win
> 
> big 
> 
> ;)
> 
> **To** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> What?
> 
> **From** : Hanamaki Takahiro
> 
> if you know you know

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Seijoh Wrap Up — Final Action Items
> 
> Miya—
> 
> I’ve compiled a list of final actions you and I both need to do in order to close out the contract with Seijoh. See attached.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> wait i wanted to send them the closing email
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> No. You already sent Komi an email with “Stop staring at me” in the subject line.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> …
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> fair point

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>, Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>
> 
> **CC** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>, Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Final Reports — Itachiyama & Shiratorizawa
> 
> Dear Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san,
> 
> Attached please find the final reports for Itachiyama Institute and Shiratorizawa Corporation.
> 
> It has been a pleasure working with you over the past ten weeks. Miya and I are available for any follow up questions you might have, and I hope that we get a chance to work with you in the future. Final invoices will be submitted through Inunaki-san, CC’ed here.
> 
> If there’s anything else we can do to support you, please let me know.
> 
> Warmest regards,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>, Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>
> 
> **CC** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>, Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Final Reports — Itachiyama & Shiratorizawa
> 
> Hi Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san,
> 
> Would like to echo Sakusa’s message. Thank you very much for this service opportunity! Hope to work with you all again in the near future.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Miya Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Oikawa Tooru <toikawa@abjs.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>, Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **CC** : Iwaizumi Hajime <hiwaizumi@abjs.com>, Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Final Reports — Itachiyama & Shiratorizawa
> 
> Hi team,
> 
> Thank you so much for your diligence the past couple of months! Words cannot express my gratitude and satisfaction with the quality of work we’ve received from you both.
> 
> In addition, it’s worth mentioning that all the companies you reviewed have offered glowing endorsements of your work with them. We will definitely be reaching out in the future for future contracts with both you two and even the rest of MSBY, as we have been extremely impressed.
> 
> Hope you take some time in the coming week to unwind and treat yourselves! You truly deserve it.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Oikawa Tooru

* * *

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Have you sent your evaluation of me yet
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I’m working, Miya.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> So that’s a no
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> How long are you making yours
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I don’t know. A paragraph?
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> THAT’S IT?
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> IS THAT ALL I’M WORTH TO YOU?
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Leave me alone I’m working.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> did u really just put yourself on do not disturb again
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> That’s rude

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> That’s rude

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : rude
> 
> that’s rude

* * *

> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Do you come with an off switch.
> 
> I would like access to it.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> you know
> 
> that sounds kinda
> 
> kinky
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> I am blocking you.
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> wAIT

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Unblock Me Now
> 
> please

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : NO
> 
> LEAVE ME ALONE I’M DOING WORK.

* * *

Sakusa groaned as yet another email came in from Atsumu. He lifted his head just enough to catch Atsumu’s eye, offering a raised middle finger and nothing else. Atsumu laughed silently. 

In some ways, it felt nice to return back to a workday routine involving Sakusa’s typical responsibilities. He’d almost missed providing thorough peer reviews even if it meant dealing with his colleagues’ horrendous typos. He also noticed that his coworkers had been strangely kind to him, or at least acted excited and extra friendly every time they saw him. 

The close of Seijoh’s contract as well as the final email from Oikawa filled Sakusa with a sense of—not quite pride, but something like that. Relief, mostly. He’d been aware, of course, that the rush to close out projects always filled his body with stress, but it was only after it ended that Sakusa felt like he could acknowledge it. He acknowledged that his shoulders were tight and his neck was sore. He acknowledged the fatigue that drifted in the back of his mind, which he’d routinely shoved aside in order to get his work done.

Sakusa wished he could feel pride. In reality, he was just tired.

The final stretch of returning back to ‘normal’—whatever that was—came in the form of a blank email, queued to reply to Inunaki and Meian. Sakusa tapped his fingers against the keyboard, not really sure how to approach this. He’d already drafted about three different opening paragraphs, and none of them felt appropriate.

He hated evaluations and performance reviews. They were a waste of time more often than not, and Sakusa couldn’t really tell what Meian and Inunaki were hoping to accomplish by having both candidates review each other. This felt oddly like university group projects, where Sakusa had to write scathing reviews about the little-to-no help his project partners contributed. Was this a trick of some sorts? Were they looking at how Sakusa evaluated coworkers, or did they actually give a damn about their performance?

Sakusa chewed on his lip and glanced over at Atsumu, who was on the phone speaking in hushed tones. Their interviews were coming up on Monday, a looming deadline that split into two possible situations. In between the interviews and waiting to hear the promotion selection, Sakusa decided to dial back to ‘professionalism’ once more. Because once he heard whether he’d been promoted or passed over, he knew he’d either pity Atsumu or detest him.

Though, in all honesty, he knew he wouldn’t detest Atsumu, try as he might—that was a battle he was destined to lose. And Sakusa wasn’t petty enough to purposely give Atsumu a scathing review. It wouldn’t have been honest, anyway, since Atsumu didn’t deserve a scathing review. Sakusa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. He sensed Atsumu’s eyes on him, even from across the room, but Sakusa refused to look up.

He had to be as objective and as honest as possible. He wasn’t sure what sort of things Atsumu would write for him, but—funny enough—Sakusa wasn’t nervous about it. It wasn’t that he trusted Atsumu, necessarily. Sakusa understood Atsumu, though, and he felt like he knew him well enough to know that he had nothing to worry about.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miean Shugo <smeian@msby.com>, Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Manager Application — Supporting Documents
> 
> Dear Meian-san and Inunaki-san,
> 
> Please see the attached supporting documents, as requested, for my application to the manager position.
> 
> In addition, I am providing my evaluation of Miya Atsumu in the body of this email below.
> 
> Please let me know if you have any questions or require further information.
> 
> **Miya Atsumu** — Peer Evaluation
> 
> Over the past couple of months, working with Atsumu has been a surprise, to say the least. I’ll be honest and say that I wasn’t exactly happy when I found out we’d be collaborating for the Seijoh assignment, but it isn’t because Atsumu’s particularly terrible or anything. It’s more so that Atsumu and I are quite opposite in personality and often attempt to troubleshoot and solve problems from completely different angles.
> 
> This made it difficult, at first, when working with him. I will be the first to admit that we argued more in the first few weeks than was probably necessary. While it was never brought into the work day, it definitely carried over to all the times outside of work where we had to collaborate.
> 
> Atsumu will often work off of his intuition and rely heavily on people skills to get things done. While this may seem like a point of concern, his intuition is shaped by his experience, including the time he worked at Shiratorizawa Corporation, a company notorious for its extremely sharp employees. He is committed to his job, and although Atsumu has a bit of a tendency to derail conversations, this is because of his aforementioned people skills.
> 
> His charisma is one that makes people want to work with him rather than for him. He showcases technical knowledge in his review and write ups, and he is quite efficient with it, too. Despite his generally laid-back and cheerful demeanor, Atsumu will not accept less-than-quality work, and this particularly shows with his rigorous revisions and thorough incorporation of any and all feedback he receives.
> 
> Overall, it has been a privilege working with Atsumu on behalf of Seijoh. His skills would translate well to a managerial position, particularly when it comes to managing people and projects. I would recommend him (though I know I’m technically competing with him) for this role. He is someone that I genuinely believe matches me stride-for-stride, and I can’t think of a better person for me to be competing against for this promotion.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Sakusa Kiyoomi

* * *

The following weekend, Sakusa gave himself time to unwind. He met up with Komori for brunch (finally) and visited his parents’ home. He did a little bit of interview prep, but didn’t find it particularly useful. His mother offered to take him to the store to purchase a crisp new interview outfit, but Sakusa turned it down. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t actually consider taking her up on that offer, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him.

Atsumu didn’t text him, which was surprising, since Sakusa had sort of gotten used to random messages pertaining to nothing of particular importance. He figured that Atsumu was busy. Or, maybe, he was worried about potentially doing or saying something that would fuck up the interview process for one or both of them.

Sakusa caught himself wondering if Atsumu was frantically preparing himself for the interviews, or if he’d given up thinking about it. Knowing him, he probably spent an exorbitant amount of time deciding which suit to wear and how to style his hair. The thought of Atsumu selecting and laying out his outfit the night before, for some reason, made Sakusa smile. 

Sakusa hesitated. He opened up his laptop and toggled it to offline mode. The office calendar stared back at him, and before he could think twice about it, he rejected all his meetings and created an all-day event, double checking to make sure the details remained private. He’d have to let Aran know that he’d be out the following day.

A day off—Atsumu was right. Sakusa deserved it.

* * *

Appointment Invitation

 **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>

 **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>

 **Invite Title** : Personal Appointment

* * *

After a moment’s consideration, he pressed _send,_ closing his laptop before he could check if he ever got a response. It wasn’t like he was pressing Atsumu to make a decision. Sakusa thought that, above everything, Atsumu had made his intentions clear. _He_ was the one that had suggested they take a sick day in the first place. 

Still, Sakusa knew, deep down, that he couldn’t perform mental gymnastics required to convince himself he had other intentions. No, Sakusa knew his intentions, loud and clear.

He was going to do something about the irritable and insatiable hunger that grew in his chest for Atsumu. For the first time, Sakusa didn’t care how that might’ve impacted the office atmosphere, nor did he care to think much about what this might mean for him on a philosophical level. Sakusa’s mind itched to overthink it, but he shoved it aside and picked up the forlorn pile of reports that had stacked up on his desk since yesterday.

It was a welcome distraction in the midst of potent memories of Atsumu grabbing his wrist and looking at him with eyes that took exactly what they wanted. And Sakusa knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he would readily give into whatever Atsumu wanted.

* * *

Sakusa received an influx of emails from his coworkers with various words of encouragement (from Hinata) and sort-of-encouragement (Adriah). The weirdest one, by far, was from Bokuto.

* * *

> **From** : Bokuto Kotarou <kbokuto@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Good luck!
> 
> Good luck Sakusa-kun! 
> 
> I’m rooting for you and Atsumu! :)

* * *

Sakusa frowned more in confusion than in annoyance. How could Bokuto be rooting for both of them? One of them would be the loser; that was how this sort of thing went. But as Sakusa’s mind unwillingly pulled him from the present into the cumulative some of everything that had transpired over the past two months, he realized maybe, even just a little, he was rooting for Atsumu, as well. Not because he didn’t want the promotion or because he wanted Atsumu to be chosen over him, but because it was—well, he was Atsumu. Sakusa had seen him working firsthand.

He’d arrived at the office earlier than usual, waking up at a grueling five in the morning in order to have two cups of coffee, a long shower, and stroll in around seven. He knew he was too nervous to get any actual work done, and thus spent the quiet couple of hours before nine going over his interview prep notes.

Sakusa wasn’t quite used to bragging about his accomplishments. He was confident, sure, and proud of what he got done. But having to sit in front of several personnel in upper management made him feel incredibly small. Like his accomplishments weren’t all that important, and neither was his experience. It was less about what he accomplished and more about how he presented himself, which didn’t come naturally to him.

He knew it was all in his head. But the shrinking feeling of scrutiny had magnified over the years of working full-time.

His coworkers began to filter in as Sakusa drained the last of his water in an attempt to hydrate his suspiciously dry mouth. When the clock struck half past eight—thirty minutes before his first of five consecutive interviews—Sakusa peeled himself away from the computer to walk down the hall, go to the bathroom, and up and down the stairs a couple times. He felt a little better after that, and returned back to his desk to grab hardcopies of his resume, his phone, and his business cards.

Right as he entered Meian’s office suite, he pulled his phone from his pocket to shut it off for the time being, and was surprised to find one last email, received just now.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : No Subject
> 
> Omi Omi,
> 
> All’s fair in love and war and office promotions.
> 
> Good luck (even if you don’t need it).
> 
> Atsumu

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : No Subject
> 
> Miya—
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> You too.
> 
> Sakusa

* * *

Sakusa wondered if he should’ve said more. A lot had shifted in his world over the past couple of months, and a lot had shifted between him and Atsumu.

But Sakusa couldn’t think about that. He had a series of interviews to do, and he had a promotion to compete for. He shut off his phone, took a deep breath, and stepped into Meian’s office—with the smallest lingering sensation that he wasn’t just competing for a promotion anymore. His mind flickered back to Atsumu one last time, and he tried not to think too much about the fact that there was more than a job on the line.

* * *

Nothing particularly surprised Sakusa about the interviews. It was perhaps the most he’d ever spoken in one meeting, and he found that after interviewing with Meian first—Meian, who he already knew well enough—Sakusa’s body relaxed a bit into the seat. He could do this. He wouldn’t just do it, either: he could knock it out of the park.

And he did knock it out of the park. This much, Sakusa was confident in: he took his time answering questions thoughtfully and honestly, and he didn’t hesitate to call out exactly what made him a strong candidate. He didn’t soften the blow of his competencies like most people were prone to. Sakusa knew his worth, and he knew he earned the right to express how valuable he was.

Sakusa was honest and direct, polite and professional. Everything that he’d learned spending time at MSBY came to fruition in those interviews, and Sakusa never wavered. He never second-guessed himself. He was, as usual, resolute in his answers, and fully prepared to answer any prying questions.

As he stood to hand Takeda his business card and shake his hand, a rush of relief surged through Sakusa’s. He hadn’t realized the amount of anxiety that he’d carried with him until it had already run its course. 

Sakusa pushed his way out of the doors of the suite, only to find Atsumu fixing his tie in the reflection of a nearby window.

“Miya.”

Atsumu glanced up at the sound. He looked perfect, as usual, but there was the slightest bit of distress painted at the downturned corner of his mouth. He masked it expertly with a fluid smile, but after spending some time with him, Sakusa knew how to recognize the fake smiles from the real ones. This one was forced, but Sakusa decided to let him off the hook for it—after all, he was about to undergo the same stressful series of interviews that Sakusa had endured. “Omi Omi. How’d it go?”

“It went well.” Sakusa tucked his folder carrying leftover resume copies under his arm, and he exhaled a sigh. “Nothing too crazy.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s great?”

“Yeah.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “For you?”

Atsumu shrugged. His eyes flickered over to the wide doors of Meian’s office suite, and Sakusa was sure he saw panic flash through them. It never occurred to him that Atsumu might get nervous. “Guess I should get goin’. I’m scheduled till five.”

Sakusa’s stomach grumbled. He’d interviewed through lunch, and he was glad that he could help himself to whatever takeout he wanted and sit at his desk and trudge through the new crop of emails. “Until five?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu rolled back his shoulders and placed a hand on his hip. “I’ll see you when I’m done, though. We can catch up then.”

“We can?”

“Are you gonna answer everythin’ I say with a question?”

Sakusa blinked. He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing that.

“I swear, you’ve been growin’ more and more absentminded everyday that I know you.” Atsumu laughed before taking one last deep breath and turning his face fully towards Sakusa one more time. “Wish me luck, Omi Omi.”

Sakusa took in Atsumu from his neatly styled hair to his crisp and fitted suit. From the earrings and the thick shoulders to the shiny leather shoes and shiny wrist watch. He took in Atsumu’s confident persona, the one that so desperately tried to hide his nerves, and Sakusa really wanted nothing more than to plant one right on Atsumu in the hallway of their office complex.

Crazy. _He_ was crazy.

“Luck?” Sakusa’s lip ticked up. “You don’t need it.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened ever so slightly, taken aback by the comment, but his face broke out into a wide and genuine grin that made Sakusa’s chest tighten. Any stress Atsumu may have been feeling seemed to melt away in that instant, and he tossed his head back and laughed.

Sakusa couldn’t suppress the smile that curled at his lips. He untucked the hem of his shirt and relaxed.

“You’ll wait for me?”

Sakusa hesitated. He hadn’t known when he and Atsumu had gotten on terms that they’d be lingering in the office on the chance that they’d get to speak to one another. He licked his lips. “Yeah.” A nod. “I’ll wait.”

Atsumu grinned, satisfied, and turned around to push past through the doors and into the final moments of his and Sakusa’s fated rivalry.


	17. the one with the personal appointment

As expected, Sakusa didn’t get much done at work as the end of the day drew near. The upcoming contract with his new client, Hiashi, Inc., hadn’t kicked in yet, so most of his time was delegated towards miscellaneous tasks and support for others. It was a welcome break from the thousand-kilometers-an-hour speed he’d been hurtling at in order to meet project deadlines. It was also a welcome break after interviewing with upper management. Sakusa figured this justified him taking it easy for the remainder of the day.

Sakusa packed his things well before the clock hit five. He texted Atsumu to meet him at Miya’s Corner and decided to help himself to a drink. After all, he deserved it. The bundle of nerves from his interview had been quickly replaced with a more tumultuous stir that made Sakusa sick to his stomach, and he wanted something to dull the uncertainty of what would happen after he left the office. The last five minutes of his work day were spent drafting an out of office notification email to Aran, which he had queued to send at seven tomorrow morning. 

For the first time in his history as a working adult, Sakusa was the first person to leave the office space. He trekked down to Miya’s Corner, and as soon as he approached the counter, Gin’s eyes widened.

“Sakusa-kun! Haven’t seen you around much lately.” Gin grinned, and Sakusa smiled back, albeit a bit tired. He knew he hadn’t been the most diligent about carving out time for breaks, including purchasing drinks from Gin. “You’re out early today.”

“Can you get me something strong?”

“Cocktail or liquor?”

“Just liquor’s fine.” Sakusa slid a few bills across the counter and sat down across from him. He traced his fingers along the patterns in the wood. “I’m tired.”

Gin pushed the bills back. When Sakusa frowned, Gin dismissed it with the wave of a hand. “Yeah, you look tired. Big day today?”

Sakusa nodded.

“I figured. I heard from Osamu-kun that it was interview day.” Gin reached a bottle above him to snag a top shelf whiskey that Sakusa didn’t even know the name of and poured him a generous drink on the rocks. Sakusa shot him a look, and Gin slid it towards him with a napkin and a thumbs up. “Don’t tell Osamu. This shit ain’t cheap.”

Sakusa thanked him and sipped tentatively from it, relishing the smooth and smokey flavor that was so unlike the cheaper alcohol he usually favored. “I’m glad it’s done,” Sakusa said, more to himself than anything.

“I can tell you that Osamu’s glad, too.” Gin dragged a stool over and leaned against the opposite end of the counter. To the right, the lobby had blossomed in gentle murmurs as the early birds exited the premises. Sakusa checked the time. Atsumu would be done soon. “He says Atsumu’s been a real bitch bein’ around.” Gin paused, quick enough that Sakusa almost missed it, but a flicker of an unreadable expression crossed his face. He recovered faster than Sakusa could register it was even there. “Um. Because of all this.”

Sakusa snorted. “You mean he isn’t usually a bitch to be around?”

“I mean. Y’know what I mean.”

Yeah, Sakusa did know. He knew he’d been on edge, too, and that while his terse behavior with his coworkers was certainly nothing new, it was definitely something that had only worsened as the days had ticked by. “So who’d you bet on?” he asked, sort of as a joke, but not really.

Gin flushed. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m kidding, Ginjima-kun.” Sakusa set his glass down on the table. From the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of office workers approach, and Gin stood up to quickly excuse himself. How convenient. 

Sakusa thought about why, exactly, he was waiting. Much of the past four hours were spent contemplating why Atsumu had asked him to wait. But he supposed that Sakusa was the one who instigated it, with the calendar invite that left very little ambiguity in implications from the title  _ Personal Appointment.  _ Sakusa had put his cards on the table, and it was up to Atsumu to play them or to fold.

Sakusa’s brain had produced a multitude of answers, each one varying degrees of wild conspiracies. So he had no other choice but to sip his drink and watch as the crowds trickled past. Sakusa groaned as he slumped forward, face pressed against the bar counter, and he tried to make sense of it all. 

Were they going to go out for dinner? Was Atsumu going to invite him over? Was  _ he _ supposed to invite Atsumu over? Or were they just going to share drinks and shit talk about the unprepared interviewers, laugh about the inevitability of one of them not getting a promotion, and part ways shortly thereafter? What did Sakusa want? He didn’t know.

No. That was a lie. Sakusa knew it was a lie. He wanted to kick his past self for putting  _ Personal Appointment _ in the meeting invite he’d shared with Atsumu, because both of them had to know that it meant only one thing.

Sakusa knew what he wanted. He was just too afraid to say it out loud.

“Already drinkin’, Omi Omi?”

Sakusa peeled his forehead from where it rested against the counter top, and his vision focused on Atsumu standing behind him. He smiled, but he looked tired. About as tired as Sakusa felt. “I’m havin’ a bit of deja vu right now.”

“Uh.” Why didn’t Sakusa’s brain work? It must have been from the alcohol, which he’d drained in about five minutes. “I’m pretty sure last time  _ you _ were the one with your face stuck against the bar.”

“Fair.” Atsumu slid into the seat beside him and peeked into Sakusa’s glass. “God. That looks real good right now.”

“Want one?”

“Nah, I shouldn’t. I gotta drive. Learned my lesson from last time.” Atsumu shut his eyes as he rubbed at his temple, mussing up his hair in the process. A clump of hair at his forehead stuck straight up, and Sakusa wanted to flatten it down with a pat of his hand. “Ugh.  _ Fuck. _ I’m tired.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m so not comin’ to work tomorrow.”

“Did you get my meeting invite?”

The words tumbled out of Sakusa’s mouth. It was a dumb question, really. Atsumu had already accepted it. But it was the closest he could get around to talking about it without really talking about it. Sakusa’s face burned as he wiped at the ring of condensed water with a napkin before handing the garbage and empty glass off to Gin. He felt Atsumu’s eyes on him.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I accepted it, didn’t I?”

“I must’ve missed it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Atsumu leaned in. His breath tickled and warmed the side of Sakusa’s face, right where his jaw met his neck. “Somethin’ tells me you saw it.”

Sakusa felt his face warm and he kept his eyes fixed on the bar counter, at the random shapes etched into the wood, and managed to murmur a steady, “I have an unopened bottle of Hakushu at my place.”

“Yer place?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You already saw my invite.” Sakusa swore his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “Didn’t you?”

Atsumu peeled back just long enough to offer Sakusa a fleeting moment of relief. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Sakusa thanked Gin one more time and followed Atsumu down to the parking garage. Each step felt heavier than the next. If Sakusa was going to back out of this, he had approximately one short elevator ride and a twenty minute car drive to decide. The sirens went off in his head and admonished him for even flirting with the idea of inviting over his coworker—whom he was very, very attracted to—to play hooky from work the next day.

There were disastrous consequences, he reasoned. Things could go colossally wrong and he could put himself at the front and center of the hottest company gossip, complete with awkward and lingering gazes and whispers that did little more than distract everyone around him. The growing friendship between him and Atsumu could be ruined. Everything he’d begun to built between them—begrudgingly at first, only for it to become a single lifeline offered in the confines of their office space—could shatter.

But as Sakusa watched Atsumu unlock and hold open the passenger door open for him, one eyebrow raised, Sakusa realized that he didn’t give a flying fuck.

He wanted Atsumu. And he wanted to have him. If Atsumu let him, then he wanted to have all of him.

The moment Atsumu climbed into the driver’s seat and clicked the door shut, Sakusa gave himself permission to act on the pent up demands he’d suffered from for months. His hand moved of its on accord and snatched Atsumu’s tie—the stupid fucking tie he wore no matter what occasion—and pulled.

Atsumu let out a startled yelp as he jerked forward, eyes widening at the sudden proximity, so close that Sakusa could see the faintest of freckles that colored across his nose and cheekbones.

“Omi?”

Sakusa swallowed and wound the tie around his palm once, twice, stubbornly avoiding eye contact to collect his thoughts. He was as scattered as the erratic beat in his chest. Sakusa could kiss him right now, and he wanted to, but for some reason, being this close to Atsumu overwhelmed him and he found himself unable to do anything else. A breath, then two. “Miya.”

“If you’re gonna kill me,” Atsumu blurted, “make it fast.”

Sakusa let out a breath of laughter and tightened his grip on Atsumu’s tie. A few weeks ago he probably would’ve wanted to gag Atsumu with it and leave him locked in a broken elevator. Too much had changed since then. “Do you always talk when you get nervous?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Hm.”

Anticipation stifled him, thick enough that he lost track of what he was going to say. Atsumu conquered all of his senses—the aroma of his familiar cologne, the soft nudge of Atsumu’s nose against his. And above all else, Atsumu and his damn persistent stare. Sakusa used to think that Atsumu was scrutinizing and criticizing him, judgement picking apart every part of Sakusa’s being into fragments that weren’t worth salvaging.

Now, with Atsumu’s eyes staring back at him, stubborn and strong, Sakusa felt picked apart in a totally different way. Atsumu had a way of making Sakusa feel naked—not in an obscene way, but in a way that made him feel seen.

Sakusa had never really felt that way before.

Atsumu’s voice lowered to barely a whisper. “You’re gonna kill me, Omi.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“And if it is?”

“I always take on challenges.”

“Does that mean you accept?”

“That means I—” Sakusa paused. He glanced down at Atsumu’s mouth, up at Atsumu’s eyes, and licked his lips. His next thought died the next moment when Atsumu pressed forward.

His mouth fell against Sakusa’s, and he let out a guttural sound that Atsumu swallowed with his lips. Atsumu’s edges had softened around Sakusa over the past few weeks, but none of that seemed to carry over to the way he kissed with aggression and urgency that Sakusa matched. His grip tightened by its own accord as Sakusa tried not to let Atsumu pull him in too deep. Atsumu was all lips, lots of jaw, clever tongue, teasing Sakusa more than anything, prodding and poking at him as if it were nothing more than the many verbal sparring matches they engaged in. One of Atsumu’s hands rested flush against Sakusa’s throat, palm rough and hot and solid as Atsumu attempted to draw him closer, or as close as he could given the car’s interior blocking him from pulling Sakusa into his seat. 

Kissing Iizuna—or any of his past flings—was never like this. First kisses were always weird and awkward and Sakusa always thought too much about their timing and the amount of tongue he used and how he used it. But kissing Atsumu felt as easy as breathing, maybe because he’d thought about it too many times to count, both in depth and in passing. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like mint.

Sakusa broke away, but Atsumu kept his grip on his neck, refusing to let him pull back. His eyes glowed in the dim lights of the parking garage. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Shut yer trap.”

“So you did.”

“I cannot believe you—”

Sakusa smiled. “How are you this much of a loser?”

“Hey.” Atsumu lightly hit his forehead against Sakusa’s lingering there, eye contact never wavering. “It’s called bein’ prepared.”

“So you’re prepared to be a loser.”

“Can you just, like—” Atsumu huffed in amusement as he pushed Sakusa’s hair out of his eyes. “—appreciate that I don’t taste like onions or somethin’?” Before Sakusa could respond, Atsumu pulled him in for another kiss. Sakusa’s free hand ran across the length of Atsumu’s shoulders, down his arms, and Sakusa indulged himself in fitting his palm right at the dip of Atsumu’s waist. 

It was a tragedy, Sakusa decided, that not everyone got the chance to slip their hand at the smallest part of Atsumu’s torso. That not everyone got the chance to press the tip of their tongue inside Atsumu’s mouth. 

“Let’s go to my place,” Sakusa said, because his hands had already begun to trail down Atsumu’s side to brush at his hips. If they made out any longer, progression was inevitable. Sakusa’s body wanted things that Atsumu could not give, at least not while they were sitting in Atsumu’s car, leaning uncomfortably over the middle of their seats. The tip of his index finger slipped, just barely, under the waistband of Atsumu’s pants, right where flesh met bone. He curled his finger against the material. Atsumu breathed with desperation that Sakusa felt at his core. “Now.”

Atsumu pressed his thumb on the underside of Sakusa’s chin and tilted his face up toward him. “We could just do it in my car.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I got tinted windows.”

“No.”

“Where’s yer sense of adventure—”

“Not this time, Miya.” Sakusa grabbed Atsumu’s wrist and pushed him away, reaching to buckle his seatbelt while he painfully ignored the obvious bulge in his pants. “Just get us to my apartment sooner rather than later.”

“This time, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Atsumu laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sakusa took a deep breath and winced at the growing pressure in his abdomen and groin. Any thoughts about how much he and Atsumu had violated and were about to violate the HR handbook on  _ Maintaining Safe And Respectful Working Relationships  _ flew from his mind, and all he could think about was the precise way that Atsumu’s tongue delicately traced Sakusa’s mouth. He wanted more.

The car ride felt like tense and wholesome foreplay, an oxymoron that Sakusa amused himself with by sticking his hand at the back of Atsumu’s head and playing with his hair. Atsumu leaned into the touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He directed Atsumu to the parking lot of his complex—including the spot that he was entitled to but never used—and grabbed Atsumu by the wrist to pull him into the complex.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Sakusa backed Atsumu against the wall and dipped his mouth against his, a sloppy kiss that was over far too soon, with Atsumu shoving Sakusa off to usher him out of the elevator.

“I fuckin’ hate elevators now,” Atsumu muttered. His tie hung over one of his shoulders and his lips glistened red. “They freak me out.”

“You’re really afraid just because we got stuck in one once?”

“Worst day of my fuckin’ life.”

Sakusa snorted as he unlocked the door to his apartment, and he hesitates for a fraction of a second that grew into more than a second. It had been a while since anyone—aside from Iizuna—visited his apartment. He twisted the key, hearing the clunk of the lock coming undone, but once the door creaked open a hair, Sakusa remained planted at the doorway.

The sudden adrenaline rush of the whole day—the interview, finishing the work day, making out with Atsumu in the car—drained away. It left Sakusa with the harsh realization that whatever fever dream he’d worked himself into wouldn’t last forever, and he was left with a sudden urge to run down the hall and never look back.

“Omi-kun?”

Sakusa could deal with stressful work timelines and to-do-lists and ad-hoc requests for review, but he had no idea how to handle the overwhelming sense of affection that he wanted to chase after and also throw away. None of this was familiar, and he struggled to regain his mental footing as he tried to clear his head of any unwanted thoughts.

Atsumu stepped closer, and he gently took Sakusa’s hand in his. “Hey.”

Sakusa swallowed.

“Are you gonna give me a tour or what?”

“I haven’t had anyone over in a while,” Sakusa admitted. He hoped his hands weren’t trembling, but Atsumu’s fingers were warm and firm. When Atsumu squeezed, Sakusa felt that motion in his chest. “I mean, I did, but not—”

“Yeah, and?” Atsumu pressed a hand against Sakusa’s back, pushing him forward and closing the door, locking it behind them. Sakusa blindly felt around for the light switch—his brain conveniently forgot where it was—but before he could flick it on, Atsumu made a grab for him and pressed Sakusa’s body against the wall. Sakusa grunted as the wind knocked out of him, and Atsumu attempted to cage him in with his arms.

“Is this your attempt to kabedon me?” Sakusa’s eyes veered to the side, suddenly embarrassed to have Atsumu standing so close to him. It was different from thinking or fantasizing in it. Sakusa was caught somewhere between pushing him away and pulling him closer, between dragging him to the bedroom and letting Atsumu fuck him right against the wall. It was a welcome distraction from the sudden tornado of anxiety that had just hit him. He could stand to indulge in Atsumu’s presence a little longer.

Atsumu’s leg slipped between his, knee grazing the inside of Sakusa’s thighs. “And if I am?” Atsumu grinned, and in the golden lights of the city at sunset that glowed through the window, Atsumu’s face shone like the Cheshire cat. His knee treaded higher until it inflicted light pressure on Sakusa’s crotch. The touch made Sakusa’s dick jump, and Atsumu glanced down and pressed against him harder. “Don’t tell me you don’t like a good kabedon, Omi Omi.”

“How many times do I have to get you off for you to stop calling me stupid nicknames?”

Atsumu made a choking noise before he stepped even closer, tilting his head for a kiss, rough this time, and Sakusa let him. Sakusa let Atsumu take charge, too busy trying to keep up, focusing entirely on the physical sensation of what it was like kissing Miya Atsumu. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it, not with the way Atsumu nipped at his bottom lip, running his tongue along his teeth, or how Atsumu’s entire upper body pressed flush against his. If Atsumu wanted to leave bruises on his mouth and everywhere on his skin, Sakusa had no problem with it. 

Sakusa guided Atsumu’s head up, offering full access to the smooth skin on Atsumu’s neck that Sakusa always ogled. He pressed his lips against it and hummed, pleased to find that it was as smooth as he imagined, and when he licked at the crux of Atsumu’s jaw, Atsumu shuddered as he finally let out a breathless answer. “Too many. More than you can probably afford in a lifetime, probably.”

He brought his mouth to the shell of Atsumu’s ear and pulled Atsumu by the hips, flush against his, sighing when Atsumu’s hardness met his stride for stride. “I always believe in aiming high.”

“That you do.” Atsumu pulled back just enough to gaze into Sakusa’s face. What struck him was that Atsumu wasn’t glazed over with lust, as Sakusa had expected. What struck him was that Atsumu’s eyes crinkled so tenderly that Sakusa’s heart jumped to his throat. 

Atsumu was wrong. It was Atsumu who would be the end of Sakusa, especially when Atsumu looked at him like _that_.

Sakusa led the way straight to his bedroom, bags dropping to the ground in tandem. “I’ll give you a tour later,” he muttered. He undid Atsumu’s tie—sort of; he’d never really learned how to tie one properly, let alone untie one—and Atsumu laughed at Sakusa’s struggle while he trailed kisses along Sakusa’s neck. Sakusa cursed before finally getting it loose, tossing it to the side.

“Shut up,” Sakusa mumbled. 

If Atsumu had any commentary, he didn’t share it, instead occupying himself with Sakusa’s belt buckle. Sakusa pushed his hands away.

Atsumu stilled. “What?”

“Let me undress you first.”

“Why—”

“Please.”

Atsumu’s brow furrowed, but his lips curled up and he dropped his hands obediently. “I always knew you wanted to see me naked.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miya.”

“You ain’t as subtle as you think, y’know. I got my own two eyes.” Sakusa’s face heated as he pulled the hem of Atsumu’s shirt out of his pants and made quick work of undoing the buttons. “Sometimes I wasn’t sure if you wanted to fuck me or jump me.”

“I still don’t know. Sometimes.”

“You could learn a thing or two about subtlety from me.” Sakusa shoved Atsumu’s clothes off his shoulders, and Atsumu pulled off his undershirt to stand, naked torso, in all of his glory. Atsumu was all sharp angles and drastic proportions, and Sakusa was both in awe and a little jealous of him. 

“What about you,” Sakusa sighed, “has ever been subtle?”

Atsumu grinned and pulled Sakusa towards him to topple into Sakusa’s neatly made bed. He’d washed the sheets in advance last night, just in case, and it smelled inviting and gentle—much like the wide-mouthed kisses Atsumu gave him, asking for more than Sakusa thought he could give, but Sakusa surprised himself. He ran his hands over Atsumu’s bare skin and stiffened when Atsumu’s hand grazed the outside of his pants.

“I thought you said you were gonna undress me.”

“Fuck off.” Sakusa gripped at Atsumu’s hair and tugged a little, just enough force to draw a satisfactory breath from Atsumu’s lips. “I’m getting to it.”

“If you’re gonna make me wait, at least take off yer clothes, too.”

Sakusa huffed and sat up just long enough to unbutton half of his shirt and pull it over his head. Eyes never leaving Atsumu’s for a second, he pulled down his pants and kicked them off, leaving him only in a dark pair of briefs that did little to hide the effect Atsumu was having on him.

Atsumu’s eyes dragged from Sakusa’s legs all the way up to his chest. He licked his lips before pulling Sakusa back towards him by the waistband of his underwear. Sakusa allowed Atsumu to kiss him however he wanted, still preoccupied with tracing every square inch of Atsumu’s torso, but he began to lose focus the moment Atsumu stuck his hand down Sakusa’s underwear and wrapped his fingers around his dick.

“Shit,” Sakusa mumbled, but it sounded unbecoming, even to him. Atsumu dragged his hand slowly, withdrawing only momentarily to spit on his palm, which was both disgusting and erotic. Sakusa’s thoughts grew incredibly hazy in an embarrassing short amount of time. It didn’t matter that Atsumu had started out attempting to hastily convince Sakusa to having sex in the car. Atsumu took his sweet time, and it drove Sakusa out of his mind.

“I don’t—” Atsumu said between heaved breaths, “—think I usually get laid at this time of day.” His free hand snaked around Sakusa’s neck and pulled him onto his side so they faced each other. From this angle, Sakusa could make at least a half-assed attempt at removing Atsumu’s pants, but it was a goal that became increasingly difficult the longer the heat from his groin made his toes curl. “My loss.” Atsumu nodded towards the glow of the sunset shining through the curtains. “Nice ambiance.”

“You did not just use the word ‘ambiance’ while giving me a hand job.”

Atsumu squeezed suddenly, interrupting the leisurely rhythm and making Sakusa gasp. “Fuck off with you makin’ fun of my word choices.”

Sakusa decided being teased wasn’t fun, and he still hadn’t seen Atsumu fully naked, so he went to fix that. His body protested when he pulled away from Atsumu’s hand just long enough to undo the buckle on Atsumu’s pants. Atsumu lifted his hips and let Sakusa disrobe him completely.

He pressed Atsumu’s thighs down with the steady palms of his hands, hungrily staring at every dip and curve splayed out beneath him. Surprisingly, Atsumu let him in silence, playing with the curls on Sakusa’s head, like he was used to office colleagues staring at his naked body all the fucking time, even though Sakusa knew that wasn’t true.

Which, again, was a tragedy, because although Atsumu’s suits made him easily the best-dressed and most attractive person in the office, they did little to showcase the divine shapes of his body. The orange light casted warmth across him, every rise of anatomy emphasized by a fall swathed in shadows. Sakusa ran his hands along the side of Atsumu’s thighs, enjoying the heavy and solid mass he found there, and dragged his hands up to Atsumu’s hips, then his waist. Atsumu’s breath caught when Sakusa traced the distinct V where his torso met his hips, where his hips tapered into his groin, two feather touches with the stroke of his thumbs.

“Are you done starin’?” Atsumu said, and Sakusa smirked at his attempt to pass off his impatience as nonchalance. “Or are you plannin’ on eye-fuckin’ me so hard my dick goes soft from not actually bein’ fucked?”

Sakusa sighed before dipping his head to press his lips against Atsumu’s hip bone. “You always have a way with words, Miya.”

“I’ll have you know—” Atsumu choked on whatever words he had in mind next, because Sakusa slipped his mouth over him. This was the way to shut him up, apparently, and Sakusa felt a sense of pride at Atsumu’s inability to form coherent sentences or even coherent words. 

Sakusa enjoyed the undoing of Atsumu’s attitude, falling apart at the seams little by little with every press of his dick into Sakusa’s mouth. Sakusa pressed his hands into Atsumu’s hips and curled his tongue with equal parts caution and care, bringing Atsumu so close to the edge that Atsumu tugged at the roots of Sakusa’s hair to warn him to stop. His jaw stiffened a bit but he ignored it, instead focusing on the mess spilling from Atsumu’s lips.

“You’re—a fuckin’—”

Sakusa withdrew right when Atsumu’s thigh muscles clenched, and Atsumu cursed. “Hm?”

“Menace. Fuckin’ menace, Omi-kun.” Atsumu cracked open an eye and took a shaky breath. “Yer stupid ass menace shirt surprisingly fits you.”

“Don’t make fun of my choice of sleepwear.”

“I ain’t makin’ fun of it. It was funny.” 

Sakusa gave his response in another series of kisses that dwindled as Atsumu hauled him and quickly worked him back into the precise rhythm he had before. 

When Atsumu climbed down the length of Sakusa’s body to return the favor, Sakusa’s eyes rolled back so far into his head he feared they might never find their way back out. Atsumu was a man of many talents, and one of them was encasing his mouth over Sakusa’s erection with enthusiasm and skill. It left Sakusa’s thighs trembling and aching for release as he fumbled around his nightstand for condoms and a bottle of lube.

Atsumu kissed his way back up: one at the crease of his hip, one at the dip of his navel, one for each pec, and when he reached Sakusa’s throat, at the junction of his neck and his collarbone, Atsumu sucked so hard that Sakusa hissed. His teeth grazed the delicate skin before his tongue poked out and withdrew almost immediately.

“What are you—”

“Maybe I wanna give you a hickey, too.”

“What are you, a teenager?”

“Hickeys are kinda sexy.” Atsumu gave Sakusa a sloppy kiss before breaking off and squinting a bit in consideration. “Well. They’re sexy on you when I’m the one givin’ them.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meanin’ when you showed up to work with hickeys, they weren’t sexy cuz I didn’t give ‘em to you.” Atsumu settled on his back. “I give the best ones.”

“Are you trying to sell yourself to me?”

“I’m tellin’ you that I waited fuckin’ long for you to finally admit to wantin’ to sleep with me, so havin’ you stroll in with proof you fucked someone else was annoyin’.” Atsumu settled on his back while Sakusa took the liberty of coating his fingers in lube. “It’s fine, though. Since you finally took the hint.” 

“Miya.”

“What? You took forever.” Any snarky response Sakusa had died the moment Atsumu spread his legs.

The sex that followed was surreal. He prepared Atsumu, who dug his face into Sakusa’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his shoulder, groans muffled and boarding on whining until he shoved Sakusa away to demand more, until finally Sakusa pressed his body slowly forward. It left Sakusa’s head spinning as he paused to catch his breath. Because how the fuck was it that—even in bed with Atsumu melted against him—Sakusa wanted even more?

Atsumu sighed against him, and when they couldn’t press together any closer, Sakusa tugged at Atsumu’s earlobe and that stupid black earring with his teeth before bracing himself to begin moving. The steady push and pull between them swelled until Sakusa knew he was on the verge of cracking, but it was only when Atsumu let out a heavy sigh, body and limbs tightening around Sakusa as he became fully undone, that Sakusa let go. 

He would remember it later in fragments, from the warmth of Atsumu around him to the tacky sweat that shone on the contours of their stomachs. The gentle tug of Atsumu’s hands in his hair, the nonsensical murmuring in his ear, the strain of muscle fatigue as he lost himself in the hunger of finally giving his body what it had been craving for months, and maybe even the entire time he’d known Atsumu.

After, Sakusa collapsed on the bed, spent and sticky and wrecked. He didn’t know if it had been ten minutes or ten hours, and judging by Atsumu’s stunned silence, he guessed he felt the same way.

“Fuck,” Atsumu finally said, summing up every thought whirring in Sakusa’s mind in a succinct and honest manner.

Their labored breathing mingled. The sun had set, but neither made a move to turn on the light. As Sakusa began to return to his body, he reached down and peeled off the sticky condom, tossing it into the bedside trash. The snap echoed in the otherwise silent room before a warm presence pressed up against Sakusa’s body.

“Hey.”

Sakusa turned and Atsumu pressed his lips to him, a chaste kiss that didn’t even qualify as a make out session. Sakusa chased him with his mouth, not quite ready for it to end. He was satisfied to see that Atsumu didn’t resist, kissing him with the easy reassurance that came with a new solace of comfort shared between them.

“So I finally got to have you, huh? I’ve been waitin’ for you to say somethin’.” Atsumu propped himself on an elbow and tilted his head as he spoke. “As usual. You didn’t.”

Sakusa scowled. “You’re an ass.”

“You liked my ass.”

“Get out of my room.”

Atsumu laughed, and with it, any fear of awkward post-sex dialogue dissolved. “Aren’t you gonna ask me to stay the night?” Atsumu said. “For yer personal mornin’ appointment? Or a late-night one?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes as Atsumu’s fingers wandered across Sakusa’s shoulders, feather light and almost ticklish to touch. He traced Sakusa’s collarbones before tilting Sakusa’s chin towards him once more, one eyebrow raised at him, both suggestively and with affection.

Sakusa’s chest tightened.

“After dinner,” Sakusa said, and Atsumu gave him a wide, glowing smile that disappeared just long enough to kiss him.


	18. the one with the aftermath

Sakusa’s body woke up before his mind had a chance to, burrowing itself deeper under the covers to shield himself from the cold morning air. He heaved a generous yawn, eyes blinking open to find a tuft of blonde hair splayed over his pristine white pillowcases. Sakusa inched over and pressed himself against Atsumu’s bare and solid back.

Sakusa rested his forehead against the curve of Atsumu’s shoulder blades. His mouth was dry as sandpaper and his chin felt raw from the stubble that scratched him from kissing Atsumu. They’d spent the rest of the evening ordering takeout and drinking the Hakushu whiskey Sakusa had promised him, lazily making out in between quiet conversations and fucking on the living room floor when they’d had just enough to drink to make floor sex seem very appealing.

He dragged one finger along the ridges of Atsumu’s spine. If he had to guess, it was probably well into the work day by now, but his phone was dead and the batteries in the clock on his nightstand had died months ago. 

Atsumu stirred. “That tickles.” His voice was muffled by the pillows.

“Good morning.”

Atsumu groaned and turned over. He cracked open an eye—barely, and yawned. “Mornin’, Omi-kun.”

“You snored last night.”

“‘Scuse me. I had whiskey and got laid three times. Pardon me for bein’ tired.”

Sakusa breathed a laugh. He tapped his fingertips against Atsumu’s forehead, a little sticky with sweaty residue from the night before, and hummed. Atsumu continued dozing, and after a few minutes, Sakusa figured he’d fallen back asleep. He began to pull the covers off his body to start the day when Atsumu’s arms shot forward and yanked him back into bed.

“What the—”

“Relax, Omi Omi,” Atsumu mumbled. He dragged Sakusa into his chest and buried his face in Sakusa’s hair. “No need to get up just yet. Gimme twenty minutes.”

“Twenty?”

“Okay, ten.”

“Aren’t you— _mph._ ” Sakusa’s words stopped short when Atsumu pressed a slow and easy kiss on his lips. Despite the stale morning breath, Atsumu slipped his tongue into Sakusa’s mouth and Sakusa found that he didn’t mind, not at all, especially when he had morning wood that begged to be taken care of.

“Y’know what they say?”

Sakusa pushed Atsumu’s bangs out of his face. Atsumu’s face grew more awake by the second, replaced by the intense hunger that Sakusa had been subjected to last night. “Do I even want to know?”

“Early bird gets the dick.”

“No one says that.”

“Okay, but pretend people do.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have any better pickup lines?”

“I don’t need pickup lines. I already gotcha hook, line, and sinker.” Atsumu’s eyebrows scrunched as he thought about it more. “Dick, dick, and more dick, I guess.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“And?”

“At least go shower first.” Sakusa sat up suddenly, eliciting a whine from Atsumu, but he remedied that quickly by reaching down and under the covers to grab Atsumu by his erection. Atsumu whined again, for a completely different reason.

Sakusa raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “Well?”

Atsumu, despite his self-centered  _ my-way-or-the-high-way _ attitude, was incredibly easy to persuade.

That was how Sakusa found himself wasting too much hot water as steam collected on the mirrors, back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower, until his fingers wrinkled and all the gunk from his pores flushed out of his system. It didn’t matter if they were in the bedroom, on the floor, in the kitchen, or in the bathroom—Atsumu gave Sakusa his full attention regardless of the environment, coaxing him into an easy orgasm faster than Sakusa could say  _ Atsumu. _

Freshly showered and significantly more awake, Sakusa trotted into his kitchen, bathrobe tight around him and a towel hung over his shoulders to catch the stray droplets falling from his hair. He flicked on the coffee machine and glanced at the time on the microwave—almost eleven. He and Atsumu slept for nearly ten hours.

Atsumu had a towel haphazardly wrapped around his hips, and if he made one misstep, Sakusa knew the towel would fall. “I always thought you’d live in a place with more embellishments.”

“I have everything I need.”

Atsumu’s eyes tracked across Sakusa’s apartment. He had a couch and a coffee table. A bookshelf for random trinkets and books, and a desk where he often worked at night. What else did Atsumu expect? “‘Course you do. All you need is at work, right?”

Sakusa frowned as he rummaged through his fridge. He had leftovers from yesterday’s takeout, a loaf of bread, semi-oxidized butter, and half a dozen eggs. A suspicious slice of cheese sat in the middle of the second shelf, and Sakusa couldn’t, for the life of him, remember where he’d gotten it from. If he could recall correctly, all he had in the freezer were frozen clumps of minced ginger and garlic his mom had convinced him would become useful at one point or another. He should’ve gone grocery shopping. “I don’t see the need for embellishments.”

“You don’t even got a TV.”

“I read the newspaper.”

“Only grandpas read newspapers.”

“Then I guess I’m a grandpa.”

“You’re impossible.” Sakusa snorted, still trying to figure out what he should do for a pathetic breakfast. He had half a mind to just warm up the leftovers from last night, but before he could reach for the cartons, Atsumu came up behind him. “Lemme see whatcha got.”

Sakusa opened his mouth to protest, but Atsumu grabbed him by the hips and swung him to the side, out of the way. He paused as he stared at the pathetic contents of Sakusa’s refrigerator.

“The fuck?” Atsumu stared. “You live like this?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you’d have, y’know, actual food. I didn’t realize you were still in uni, Omi Omi.”

“I was about to go grocery shopping.”

“About to? When? Six weeks ago?”

Sakusa scowled while Atsumu bent over to pull out all the meager contents of Sakusa’s fridge. He inspected the bread and sniffed at the cheese.

“Like you’re any better, Miya.”

“Um, yes, I am. My brother is Samu. Wadaya expect, that I’m tasteless to make up for him havin’ the food genes? Do you know what it’s like growin’ up with a picky eater like Samu?” Atsumu waved Sakusa away with his hands. “Get outta here. Let the chef do his magic while you do yer pathetic two-step facial moisturizing routine.”

“I wasn’t aware there should be more than one step.”

“Blasphemy.” Atsumu smiled. He waved an egg at him. “We’re goin’ grocery shoppin’ later, since ya don’t know jackshit about how to maintain a full fridge.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Sakusa backed away. “Aren’t you going to at least put on some clothes?”

“Why? Are you complainin’?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and made his way back to the bedroom. It was odd, how Atsumu fit the picture of domesticity, almost like he was meant to. It shouldn’t have happened this way, of course, because Atsumu was his _coworker_ , for fuck’s sake. Having a one-off fling with a coworker was one thing—Sakusa was well aware that those were common in the office—but sleeping over, having breakfast together, spending a whole fucking day off together—that was unheard of.

“Omi.”

Sakusa turned, only to find a towel being flung straight into his face.

“Enjoy the view.” Atsumu erupted in a fit of giggles as he got to work making them breakfast, ass naked. 

Sakusa dressed himself in loungewear, pausing only momentarily before pulling out extra sweatpants and a comfortable sweatshirt. It was now the morning after, which meant that he and Atsumu inevitably had to discuss the events from the night before. Without any thought or direction, he and Atsumu slipped into whatever next stage they had the potential to go towards, but Sakusa held himself back. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions nor did he want to forget that Atsumu was, at the end of the day, his rival.

But was the label ‘rival’ mutually exclusive with other names? Did that mean they couldn’t be friends, or that they couldn’t be sexually involved? Sakusa chewed on his bottom lip as he mulled it over. Atsumu fit too easily into his bedroom and kitchen for it to be just sexual. Sakusa acknowledged that, as much as it kind of pained him, because that made things a little bit more complicated.

But—well, shit. They were already complicated before, weren’t they? 

Sakusa came out of his bedroom and tossed the extra set of clothes right back at Atsumu, who barely caught it before setting down the pan on the stovetop. “Hey! That’s dangerous.”

“Put on some clothes. You look ridiculous.”

“You mean my naked body doesn’t turn you on?”

“No.” Sakusa sat at the kitchen table, where a plate of warmed toast and eggs waited for him. His throat jumped. “I don’t remember the last time I had breakfast.”

Atsumu grinned. He pulled on Sakusa’s clothes while still standing in the kitchen. His head poked through the hole of Sakusa’s sweater like a whack-a-mole peeking its head out to tease. “I tossed yer slice of cheese out. Sorry.”

“I didn’t even realize I still had that,” Sakusa admitted as Atsumu pulled a chair closer to him.

There was no reason for Atsumu to sit that close to him. His kitchen table was surprisingly large despite being a small apartment, but if Atsumu felt any way that Sakusa did, then Sakusa knew there was a pull between their bodies. Atsumu drew near by some sort of gravity, just close enough that Sakusa was made aware of his presence, but not too close that Sakusa went tumbling out of orbit.

Sakusa looked at the breakfast, the glass of water Atsumu had left out, the utensils neatly placed beside the plate, and then at Atsumu, who had his hands pressed together as he muttered  _ Itadakimasu _ to no one beside himself.

Sakusa rested one elbow on the table and propped up his chin. He reached to brush Atsumu’s hair out of his eyes before settling his hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Atsumu turned toward him. “Hm?”

Sakusa leaned forward to kiss him again, this time without the promise of anything more than the current moment. It lacked the intensity from before, where both of them clawed their way from desire to action. There was a different hunger here, too, one that Sakusa had failed to recognize over the years of being tossed around work and work only.

For so long, the word ‘yearning’ was unknown to Sakusa, but he began to understand a bit more as Atsumu continued to pull him out of tunnel vision swallowed by working. Sakusa’s chest swelled with a devastating stillness, the calm after the storm, once the dust had settled.

It felt like that, sometimes—after he and Atsumu would have a pivotal moment that would serve as a turning point for them. A deafening aftermath that boomed even when he was alone. It left Sakusa breathless and anxious and thrilled and afraid. Sakusa couldn’t decide if he preferred the swell of anticipation over the lull of comfort and quiet, so he decided he liked both.

And he decided, above all else, that he liked Atsumu, and he wanted him to be a part of that.

Atsumu pulled back a little, and Sakusa wiped at the faint sheen of spit at the corner of Atsumu’s mouth. “Contrary to popular belief, I ain’t the kinda person who goes around and fucks just anyone in the office.”

Sakusa picked up his chopsticks. “Is that so?”

“Of course. I’m not tryin’ to make things weird at work.”

“You always make things weird at work.”

“Shut yer trap. My point is…” Atsumu cleared his throat and placed one hand on Sakusa’s thigh, squeezing gently. “I know things could get weird, y’know, with the promotion and stuff. And, uh...the dickin’.”

Sakusa sighed, promptly setting down his chopsticks with a sharp clatter. He gave Atsumu a pained expression, because this was a perfect moment to  _ not _ talk about anything that mattered. He wanted to enjoy the breakfast with his phone dead and his laptop shut off, with details of yesterday’s interview fading in the background like radio static. 

He definitely did  _ not _ want to talk about the ‘dicking’ with Atsumu—not now, and maybe not even ever. Because it left room for hope, and hope only bred disappointment. Sakusa had gone so long with harsh cynicism as his default setting that he knew very little else.

“Just hear me out, okay?”

Sakusa nodded. It was the least he could do.

“I want you to know that regardless of results, that ain’t gonna change the fact that I slept with you, not just cuz you’re hot, but ‘cause I like yer company.” Atsumu adjusted himself in his seat and folded back the hems of Sakusa’s sleeves, which were a touch too long and hung past his wrists. Sakusa’s throat jumped with words of gratitude and humor, but he forced himself to stay silent and allowed Atsumu to continue. 

“I can’t give you much except for good sex.” Sakusa snorted, and Atsumu’s lips curled up. “And an excuse to take it easy once in a while. But I don’t care, ‘cause I want you.”

“Miya—”

But Atsumu shook his head and held up a finger. He sounded firm and resolute in his words. “I’m nervous as fuck to see what happens next. So you don’t have to act like everythin’ is fine and dandy in yer world and that it doesn’t matter who gets what or who loses anythin’. Regardless of the outcome, Omi Omi, I’ll be happy so long as I get to see you more like this.”

The tenderness that Atsumu spoke with shouldn’t have existed, nor should it have sounded normal coming from a mouth that boasted more of crass remarks than heartfelt statements. Sakusa had a lot to say: namely, that he agreed.

The promotion nestled into the back of his mind just far enough out of reach that he failed to consider it alongside everything that he did at work. If Atsumu didn’t care about it and didn’t care about squashing Sakusa in the application process, Sakusa realized that he didn’t give a shit, either. The life that Sakusa had going for him, complete with lack of any interests outside of work, had reshaped itself to fit something else entirely. By someone who slotted himself in car rides after the sun went down, watered-down drinks at the bar, and now, confessions whispered against the softest parts of the human body. 

That someone was Miya Atsumu.

Was Sakusa in love with him? Probably not. There was an undertow, though, that threatened to pull him over and under with every brief—or not-so-brief—interaction they shared. But Sakusa knew for a fact that he was in the process of falling in so deep that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be dragged back out.

“You should eat,” Atsumu said. He avoided eye contact, and Sakusa noticed the smallest tremble of his lower lip. “Before it gets cold.”

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu offered a sharp intake of a breath before slowly turning towards him. Sakusa’s answer was in his kiss and in the cradle of Atsumu’s jaw in his palms. Similar to the several detours Sakusa had journeyed on, he opened the door for another, this time with Atsumu, one long enough that their eggs went cold and Sakusa had to heat up their breakfast again, but neither of them minded.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Subject** : Hey
> 
> I’ll trade contracts with you. Pharm is boring.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : No
> 
> That’s not even allowed.

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : Well—
> 
> I mean neither is [REDACTED] your coworker and that didn’t stop you.

* * *

> **From** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : I hate you

* * *

> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **RE** : :)
> 
> Have you heard back from Meian yet?

* * *

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Just use IM, Miya.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> And no, I haven’t.
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Have you?
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> Nah
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> They said up to three weeks, anyway. Stop being impatient.
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> HEY. i’m not being impatient
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> wanna do it in the copy room
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu 
> 
> I’m literally reporting you to HR.

* * *

Atsumu snickered at his cubicle when Sakusa looked up at him through narrowed eyes. Atsumu rotated in his chair just enough so Sakusa could see him, one arm draped at the back of his chair as his screen showed nothing but the instant messaging screen. This had become the new norm: every couple of hours, Atsumu would send him cheeky emails or instant messages about nothing in particular. Sometimes, if Atsumu was feeling particularly needy, he’d send it at night, too, instead of texting, which drove Sakusa up a wall in a very frustrating yet very endearing way.

Sakusa busied himself with his new client, Hiashi, and found that he had an easier time managing his workload now that Hanamaki’s backlog had long since closed and the huge contract with Seijoh was a thing of the past. Sometimes, he still struggled to stay asleep, and he still relied heavily on excessive doses of caffeine.

It became clear to him that nothing had really changed at MSBY, but something in Sakusa certainly had.

Because it wasn’t even like he was doing less than he was doing before Hanamaki had left. Sakusa was still reviewing reports, and he was still attacked by infinitely long streams of emails. Hiashi, for their part, was easy to work with, and maybe that had something to do with it. Sakusa rarely saw his late nights anymore, mostly because Atsumu was the one enticing him out of the office, promising that Sakusa could do work more after dinner—though he seldom did.

They hadn’t been the most subtle at the office, but as far as Sakusa knew, no one was asking any questions. There wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary besides extended lunch hours where they’d make use of Atsumu’s tinted windows. The first time had been an accident: they’d planned on driving to lunch but Atsumu had caught Sakusa by the hem of his shirt and pulled him into the back seat. The second time, a coincidence: they both happened to get to the office early and had time to kill before Miya’s Corner opened.

By the third time, Sakusa accepted resignation that he was no longer the prim and proper person who refused to fuck in the backseat of a cramped car. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just the slightest bit exhilarated by it. Sakusa had never been the kind of person to take breaks from work, let alone take breaks to mess around like a couple of giggly teenagers. It was new for him—a lot of it was.

* * *

> Appointment Invitation
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Invite Title** : Personal Appointment

* * *

Sakusa snorted and declined the invite right as he heard someone beside him say, “Sakusa.”

He glanced up to see Adriah standing with his arms crossed. “Yes?” As expected, Adriah had a pile of papers under his arm, and he sighed.

“How are you?”

“Cut the shit. What do you want?”

Adriah batted his eyelashes as he slid a familiar-looking document onto Sakusa’s desk. “You’ve been looking laid-back lately.”

“I assure you, I have not. What’s this?” Sakusa thumbed through the pages. 

“Would you be able to do a review for me?”

“I’m busy.”

“Please?” Adriah leaned against the corner of Sakusa’s desk. His hair hung in his eyes and he attempted to paint on a charming smile—one that Sakusa did not return. “Tsukishima’s busy and Konoha said he wouldn’t be able to do it until next week.”

“So do it next week.”

“Sakusa, please.” Adriah’s eyes widened, an attempt to look charming, but it failed—after all, Adriah was a man nearing two meters tall, not a child. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

“No.”

“I’ll owe you multiple favors?”

Sakusa groaned. In truth, he wasn’t actually that busy, or maybe he’d just convinced himself that being overworked was ‘busy’ and anything less than that was ‘free.’ From the corner of his eye, he noticed another email pop up, auto-opening in his inbox.

* * *

> Appointment Invitation
> 
> **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **Invite Title** : dickn appt of ur lifetime, asshole

* * *

Sakusa’s face flushed as he moved to close it immediately, but not before Adriah’s eyes flickered to the movement. Adriah’s jaw dropped open and his already large eyes bulged out of his skull, and for the first time since Sakusa had known him, Adriah’s quick and too-sharp mouth had nothing to say. 

“You didn’t see that,” Sakusa said, too quickly.

“Except I did.” Adriah leaned in towards Sakusa, and Sakusa withdrew back into his seat. “Don’t tell me you did what I think you did.” Adriah began laughing. His shoulders shook and gradually amplified as the dawning realization was driven home by Sakusa’s mortified look. “Actually, wait—don’t tell me you did  _ who _ I think you did.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe it. I cannot  _ believe _ this. Atsumu, that dirty son of a bitch. Miya!” Adriah lifted an arm and waved Atsumu over. Atsumu perked up from his seat, frowning in confusion. At Adriah’s beckoning, he pushed away from his desk and came over anyway despite Sakusa’s nonverbal signals not to. 

“What is it?” Atsumu asked when he approached Sakusa’s desk. He’d ditched the tie today, mostly because Sakusa had gotten it too wrinkled while they made out in the bathroom stalls. 

“You guys.” Adriah pointed his finger back and forth between the two: Atsumu, arms crossed as he leaned against Sakusa’s desk, and Sakusa, sitting, face all but splayed out beside his keyboard. “You guys fucking did it, didn’t you?”

The unbearable silence provided more of a response than Sakusa could have given.

“Uh…” Atsumu’s face turned red. “No?”

“Oh my god, Miya.” Sakusa groaned. 

Adriah cackled and shook his head. It was surprising, because Sakusa would have guessed Atsumu would’ve told the entire office by now. It seemed like Atsumu  _ did _ have boundaries. “You didn’t even fucking tell me, Atsumu? That’s the least you could’ve done.”

“We’re not—”

“Yeah, don’t even try to deny it. Hey, Suna!” Adriah called out across the office, turning heads in the otherwise silent office space. “Sunarin. Listen here.”

Suna had on headphones, but Kageyama tapped his shoulder. He turned, a tiny veiled annoyed expression dancing between his brows. “What?”

“Bokuto won.” This caught more attention from Hinata, and Tsukishima, and Konoha, and even _Aran_ , for crying out loud. “Someone fucking call Hanamaki. Actually, I’ll just message him. Bokuto won the pool.”

Bokuto jumped out of his seat. “ _Huh?_?”

“Pool?” Atsumu frowned. “What pool?”

“The pool about you two assholes finally fucking, you dumb bitch.” Adriah grabbed Atsumu by the head, and Sakusa blanched. 

“Wait.” Bokuto took this as an invitation to crowd around Sakusa’s desk and stick his face into Sakusa’s personal space. “You and Tsumu-kun finally got together?”

“No way!” Hinata’s voice crackled across, too, and as Sakusa looked around the room at all the eyes staring at him, he realized that he wasn’t just missing the inside joke: he  _ was _ the joke.

“Wait a second.” Sakusa pressed his fingertips against his temple. “The betting pool—”

“Didn’t that start cuz Hanamaki’s a sick bastard who bets on office promotions?” Atsumu drawled. The blush persisted, but at least he could speak full sentences.

“Sort of.” Adriah pulled out his phone—presumably to text Hanamaki—as he grinned. “It started out that way, then after happy hour, Bokuto felt bad and persuaded everyone to change our bets to something else.”

“Do I even want to know what that something else is?” Sakusa muttered. This wasn’t exactly how he’d been planning on letting this play out. 

“On when you two started fucking,” Adriah said, like it was obvious.

“I’ve never done a fuck in my life.”

“That’s maybe the worst lie I’ve ever heard you say, Miya.”

Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose as his coworkers gradually got louder with their side commentary. If he tried, he might have been able to keep up, but in all honesty, it was probably better if he didn’t.

Bokuto whooped loudly when Atsumu (much to Sakusa’s chagrin) confirmed that they’d ‘gotten together’ the day of their interviews. He gave Atsumu a hug that looked more like a headlock, and shot a double thumbs-up in Sakusa’s direction. Sakusa shook his head and tried to bring himself back into work, but his concentration had been broken.

He looked up in Atsumu’s direction, unsurprised when he found him looking back with the broadest of smiles shining.

Sakusa reached over to accept Atsumu’s invite and stood up from his desk, excusing himself to, once again, give himself a break. It was only after he returned to his desk, rumpled and a little embarrassed by the fact that he’d let Atsumu blow him in the copy room, Sakusa realized that—with Adriah’s request—it was his first time ever saying no.

* * *

Whatever new lull of normalcy Sakusa had fallen into subsequently crashed at the end of the week. Right as he stood up to head home—Atsumu was visiting his parents for the weekend, so Sakusa had made plans to meet up with Komori for dinner—a familiar ping went off from his phone. 

Sakusa glanced at it and frowned at the subject line, which was just urgent enough that he felt compelled to open it.

* * *

> **From** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> **To** : Sakusa Kiyoomi <ksakusa@msby.com>
> 
> **FWD** : Notice of Withdrawal (CONFIDENTIAL)
> 
> Dear Sakusa,
> 
> I shouldn’t be sending this to you but I’m doing it anyway. It’s been sitting in my drafts for a while because I couldn’t decide if I should forward it to you.
> 
> This isn’t any of my business but, ultimately, I figured you should know. You didn’t hear it from me.
> 
> —Inunaki
> 
> — — — — —
> 
> > **From** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> > **To** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> > **CC** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> > **RE** : Notice of Withdrawal
> 
> > Miya,
> 
> > Sorry to hear you’re dropping out. This speaks volumes to your commitment to the betterment of MSBY and I commend your integrity in doing so.
> 
> > If you don’t mind, I’d love the chance to speak with you in lieu of an interview during our pre-scheduled time together. I’ll have Inunaki cancel the rest of the interviews and notify the interviewers that you have withdrawn your application. Thanks for notifying us ahead of time.
> 
> > Talk soon,
> 
> > Meian
> 
> — — — — —
> 
> > > **From** : Miya Atsumu <amiya@msby.com>
> 
> > > **To** : Meian Shugo <smeian@msby.com>
> 
> > > **CC** : Inunaki Shion <sinunaki@msby.com>
> 
> > > **Subject** : Notice of Withdrawal
> 
> > > Dear Meian-san,
> 
> > > I hope this email finds you well! And I apologize that this is a bit delayed compared to the original request for more information Inunaki sent over. The truth is, I’ve been mulling over this for quite some time now, and I’ve finally reached the decision to formally withdraw my application to the manager position.
> 
> > > After working alongside Sakusa-san for the past several weeks, I have come to the conclusion that he is a better fit for the position than I am—or at least where I am currently in my career. You and I both know that I don’t give out glowing reviews often, and this one is hard earned. I’d be more than happy to sit down and chat with you if you have any questions or would like to hear more about my decision to withdraw. Please see below for my peer evaluation that was previously requested.
> 
> >> Sakusa is one of the craziest bastards I’ve worked with, but in a good way. He puts in an incredible amount of care and time in his job that goes unnoticed. Although we come from fairly similar backgrounds, Sakusa carries himself with a sharp awareness of decision making, problem solving, and business needs that allows him to see his work to completion. He doesn’t just complete things, either—he does things with infinitely thin margins of error that it’s almost annoying.
> 
> > > Throughout the duration of our time working with Seijoh, I got to learn a bit more about Sakusa’s leadership style. I knew his technical skills were off the charts already, so what I really wanted to know more about was how he was as a person. He takes charge and delegates when leadership is needed, but Sakusa also knows when to sit back and let others grab hold of the steering wheel.
> 
> > > What really drove it home for me, though, was when I admittedly screwed up and he set aside whatever he was working on and stayed in the office until nearly midnight to make sure it got fixed. Without him, I don’t know what I would have done. Sakusa is the sole reason why MSBY’s relationship with Seijoh has remained intact; I can take none of the credit. Also, he picked me up from a bar once when I was too drunk to drive myself home, which kind of showcases how he has the sensibility that I admittedly sometimes lack.
> 
> > > I was intimidated when I first learned he’d be the person I’d be competing with for the promotion, especially because—although we’d never worked directly together before—I knew he should be a shoo-in. If I’m being honest, I’ve always admired and looked up to Sakusa for his presence and commitment to work. He has virtually no weaknesses (aside from poor sleep schedules) and I genuinely, fully believe that MSBY’s Audits & Project Management Division would be better off selecting Sakusa Kiyoomi as a manager rather than myself or anyone else who applies. Anyone who thinks otherwise is, to put it bluntly, wrong.
> 
> > > I am thankful for the opportunity to move this far in the applicant process. Should another promotion be open, I look forward to reapplying once more and hope that by then I will be fully prepared to take on more responsibilities.
> 
> > > Best regards,
> 
> > > Miya Atsumu

* * *

Sakusa stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, bumping into passerbys, and he stared at the email. He had to be seeing things. No, this couldn’t be right—he and Atsumu were  _ both _ waiting to hear back from Meian in the next few days. Atsumu had told him to his face that he was nervous but excited, and both results were enjoyable for him, whether he won the promotion or lost.  _ That _ was what they’d discussed, and  _ that _ was the agreed upon mode for handling being rival coworkers while also sort-of-kind-of seeing each other in a more-than-coworkers, more-than-friends way.

Part of him wanted to scream and cry and kiss Atsumu silly and fuck him and get fucked until both of them were senseless, but above all else, an incredible surge of rage blurred his vision and Sakusa had to channel all his self-restraint into not throwing his phone against the ground.

Miya Atsumu—that jackass son of a bitch who was notorious for playing games—had  _ quit. _

And Sakusa wanted to fucking kill him.


	19. the one with the reveal

Sakusa, like an idiot, spent the entire weekend in a foul mood in which he did nothing but jump from emotion to emotion. After receiving the email from Inunaki, Sakusa had subsequently cancelled plans with Komori and booked it home to his apartment. His fingers itched to dial up Atsumu’s number and yell whatever was on his mind, but Sakusa knew that some damage was irreparable.

He read it once, twice, ten times, maybe even one hundred, and each time burned in his brain, same as the last. Sakusa felt as though he traveled through the five stages of grief and then back again, only to find himself in that initial gut wrenching feeling that Atsumu had lied to him and played him.

Maybe it wasn’t a complete lie so much as it was an omission. If Sakusa had decided to withdraw, though, he definitely would have told Atsumu. After all, it was common courtesy, wasn’t it? Especially if the opposing candidate was someone you slept with? Or—more importantly—someone you were kind of seeing? Which only brought into question why Atsumu hadn’t told him. Surely he respected Sakusa enough to be honest with him.

He didn’t text Atsumu, though he did receive messages from him periodically during the weekend. The updates like  _ bought new pants! _ and  _ I want to take you to donkatsu place near home _ felt empty given the context in which Sakusa received them. He read them with a bitterness seeping through his chest, because under ordinary circumstances, he knew he would have enjoyed them. But not now.

Atsumu was the type who never outwardly expected a response, so he was sure that Atsumu had no idea why things were silent on Sakusa’s end. Because what the fuck was he even supposed to say to him? Sakusa had figured that if he mulled it over the weekend, he’d come to a reasonable conclusion. The extended time alone didn’t help, though; if anything, it left him even more confused.

He didn’t want Atsumu’s pity. He didn’t want Atsumu to feel like he had to give up something to Sakusa to avoid any potential problems between them. Nor did he want Atsumu to think that Sakusa was  _ better _ than him, because Sakusa knew he wasn’t. It wasn’t a grand or romantic statement; it was a fact: he and Atsumu stood on equal playing fields when it came to their professional lives and nothing in their personal lives should have impacted it. And nothing in their professional lives should have impacted their personal lives, but it already had.

Furthermore, this felt wrong. If Sakusa had been extended an offer to become a manager  _ after _ Atsumu stepped aside, he didn’t feel as though he’d earned it, and he’d be hesitant to accept it. It didn’t matter what sort of ‘glowing review’ Atsumu gave. It didn’t matter if Sakusa actually was the perfect applicant. If Atsumu stepped out of the way, then Sakusa didn’t want to claim victory.

What the  _ fuck _ had Atsumu been thinking?

A few months ago, Sakusa might not have cared. He would have shrugged, brushed it off, and turned back to work as though nothing mattered more than making deadlines. He would have gladly accepted Atsumu withdrawing in favor of Sakusa; in fact, he probably would have encouraged Atsumu to do that.

But now he didn’t just ‘care’. He needed to know _why_ , and he was going to fucking find out—even if it became the last that he and Atsumu ever spoke about to one another.

* * *

Sakusa arrived to the office on Monday late and without a single flying fuck about work. He downed two espresso shots before making it to his desk, vaguely aware of Atsumu looking at him across the office. By now, Atsumu’s messages had dwindled, most likely because Sakusa hadn’t responded to any of them. Atsumu, sharp as ever, must have realized that Sakusa’s lack of response meant more than being disconnected.

The moment Sakusa opened his laptop and logged in, his notifications went off.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> hey!
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> happy monday :-)
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> everything ok?

Sakusa inadvertently glanced up at Atsumu, already staring with a pleasant smile on his lips, and when Sakusa scowled and closed the chat window, Atsumu’s smile dropped. Sakusa didn’t take joy in making people stop smiling, and this was no exception. Moments later, more notifications cropped up.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> didn’t hear from you much
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> just wanted to make sure you’re good
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> did something happen?

Seriously. How had Sakusa fallen for someone who was not only a jerk when they’d first met, but also someone so dumb that they had to ask why Sakusa was pissed?

> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Yes.

Sakusa parsed through his calendar. Out of the six meetings he had scheduled, he only  _ really _ had to attend two—a call with Hiashi about their internal processes and the MSBY Quarterly Update provided by upper management every three months. That meant he had time to at least attempt to clear the air—or potentially make it worse.

> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> oh
> 
> **Instant Message From** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> wanna talk about it?
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Miya Atsumu
> 
> Let’s take a walk.

Sakusa toggled his status to  _ offline _ and snatched the spare folder he’d brought with him, tucking it under his arm. From his peripheral vision, he saw Atsumu stand up as well, ditching his suit jacket on the back of his chair. He smoothed out the shoulders before shutting off his monitor and made a beeline for Sakusa, who was already well on his way towards the door. Sakusa ignored the knowing stares of his office mates, who probably thought they were taking a quick dick break, and tried his best to remain calm despite the enraging circumstances.

Was he pissed at Atsumu? Even if he wasn’t, something very similar to rage bubbled in his chest.

“Omi-kun—”

“Not now, Miya.”

Atsumu stopped in his tracks, stunned by the terse tone that Sakusa tried to bite back but couldn’t. His thick, hooded eyes crinkled. “What happened?”

“Let’s go somewhere private.”

On a regular day, Atsumu would’ve given a cheeky remark. Sakusa stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, jerking his chin down the hall.

He didn’t say anything as Sakusa led him into the stairwell. There was one tiny lounge on the floor above them that had a janky coffee machine Sakusa used when he absolutely needed to; the room itself was seldom occupied. Sakusa jerked the handle open and Atsumu stepped in without a word.

“Kiyoomi,” he said, and Sakusa hated that. He hated that Atsumu could pull out his name and speak with such intimate delicacy that made his lower lip tremble. “Tell me what’s wrong. You’re freaking me out here.” 

Sakusa took a shaky and measured breath. “Do you have anything you wanted to tell me?”

Atsumu glanced at him with wide eyes far too innocent looking to be true. “Hm?”

Sakusa gave him a flat stare.

“Uh…I guess I wanted to talk to ya earlier about why you were so quiet this weekend.”

“Miya.”

“Are ya feelin’ okay, Omi-kun? You’ve been on—”

Sakusa slapped the folder down on the coffee, face up. It hit the wooden surface with a smack that made Atsumu flinch. “Explain this to me. Tell me what I’m supposed to fucking think about this and why the fuck I spent the entire weekend trying to make sense of what you did—which I didn’t, by the way. I came to the conclusion that you pissed me off when you pulled this ridiculous stunt. So you’d better pull some damn good explanation out of your ass.”

Atsumu frowned as he leaned over to pick up the pages, hair falling in his face as he did so. “What’s this?” He squinted at the writing in confusion, which slowly morphed into shock and then horror and—finally—fear. “Omi—”

“What the fuck  _ is _ this?”

Atsumu licked his lips. He wasn’t smiling. His back stiffened and he refused to meet Sakusa’s eyes, a small detail that, somehow, managed to piss Sakusa off even more. “I guess my explanation’s right there.” He muttered under his breath, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill Inu-san.”

“You withdrew? You really fucking withdrew?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu’s voice softened as he gently placed the folder back on the table and took a step away from Sakusa. Several steps, actually, across the tiny room with his back almost pressed against the window. Sakusa remained planted where he was, unable to lift his feet from where they stayed glued to the ground. “I did.”

The verbal confirmation directly from Atsumu’s mouth hit Sakusa swiftly, a punch to his gut, then to his chest, then to his vision as he struggled to see straight. “And why,” he said, far calmer than the tempest that brewed inside, “the hell would you do that?”

“Y’know why.”

“I’m not accepting this.”

Atsumu barked a dry laugh. He still wasn’t looking at Sakusa, opting instead to stare out the window at the bustling streets of Tokyo below them. He eclipsed the window almost completely. “I’m sorry if you don’t accept it, but what’s done is done. I withdrew my application, and I told ‘em the truth. I ain’t someone who gives up because I quit.” Atsumu’s shoulders rippled as he shrugged. “I let the whole thing go because I ain’t interested in it. Everythin’ I told Meian was true, too, but mostly I don’t want it.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. You and I both know—”

“Both know what, exactly?” Finally, Atsumu turned to him. He rested his body against the windowsill, arms crossed, a pained expression crossing his face as he faced Sakusa for the first time. “That this is all you’ve been workin’ for since ya started workin’ in the first place, right? I got the chance to see how much this job costs you. No one else sees it, because you don’t talk about it at work. It costs you more than just a couple spare hours. It costs you a lot—a helluva lot more than this job ever costed me, I can tell ya that. You should earn out what you deserve.”

Sakusa clenched his fists. Atsumu spoke with conviction that Sakusa had always recognized was there, even way back when they were passive aggressively egging each other on with unsolicited commentary. And, as always, Atsumu spoke only the truth that Sakusa’s known for years: he was a workaholic who threw everything he had into his day-job-turned-night-job, and what else did he have to boast of besides that? 

Still, that didn’t make him more or less qualified than Atsumu, and Atsumu should’ve known that. “You don’t get to decide that. You can have your opinion; that’s fine. I have my opinion, too. But hiring a new manager isn’t up to your discretion. That’s up to Meian and the others to decide.  _ That _ was the agreed upon plan. We  _ both _ did Seijoh’s work, we _ both _ submitted applications, we _ both _ interviewed—”

“Oh, shut yer fuckin’ trap; you  _ know _ the whole thing is bullshit. Do you even hear yerself? That ain’t yer way of thinkin’, Omi, and you know it.” Sakusa gritted his teeth, but Atsumu shook his head. “You and I both knew from day one that the whole application process was conjured up for shits and giggles and to get us to take on Hanamaki’s Seijoh contract without a fight.” Atsumu’s eyes flashed. “You know it and I know it. So  _ stop _ tellin’ yerself otherwise.”

Sakusa fumed. “Put yourself back in the candidate pool.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Atsumu. This isn’t a joke.”

“Did I say it was?”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll withdraw my application, too—”

“Don’t fuckin’ do that.” Atsumu stood up and crossed the room. He reached out for Sakusa’s shirt but stopped himself at the last second. His eyes gathered a spark that Sakusa was surprised to see. He’d expected some form of apology of sorts, and maybe a flash of regret and a quick agreement to retract his withdrawal, but Atsumu didn’t showcase  _ any _ of that. If anything, he looked—dare Sakusa say—as irritated as Sakusa felt. “If you’re about to walk away because yer too proud, then you got issues.”

“Did you do this because we slept together?”

“No, you dipshit. I withdrew before we fucked for the first time.”

“When did you start considering it? And why?”

Atsumu paused. His eyes trailed back to the forgotten folder and the email that he’d written, and he said in a soft voice, “You saw my email to Meian and Inunaki. The night you stuck around, with Inarizaki to clean up the mess that  _ I _ caused?” Sakusa’s mind flashed back to the midnight office stay. “I wouldn’t have done that for me. Wouldja believe me if I toldja that I woulda said, ‘Fuck you, fix it yerself,’ then gone home? Because I would’ve. And that proved that you’re the kinda person who would do better in a higher role, cuz even if I’m as smart or smarter or even better than you, I ain’t got half the amount of good character you have.” The corners of Atsumu’s mouth turned up in a small smile tinged with sad wistfulness. “And I like you because of it.”

Sakusa’s throat jumped as he swallowed.

“You should’ve told me first,” he pointed out, thinking back to the countless hours they’d logged in and out of the office together, between closing Seijoh and attending the final interviews. There’d been more than a few opportunities where Atsumu could have pulled him aside to talk about it. “You shouldn’t have done something so impulsive without at least  _ telling me _ first. Or were you never planning on telling me at all?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way you woulda accepted me steppin’ down like that.” Atsumu laughed humorlessly. “I know you, Kiyoomi. I know you wouldn’t have let me.”

“You’re right. I’m not letting you.” Sakusa’s mind had already put together a list of action steps he needed to take to either remove himself from candidacy or force Atsumu back into it. But the following sequence of steps could only happen if Atsumu willingly agreed to it, and judging by Atsumu’s unwavering voice, Sakusa knew that he wouldn’t. Still, he refused to let Atsumu off the hook so easily. “I’m not going to accept a position that you moved out of the way for. You’re not a stepping stone, Atsumu.” Sakusa’s voice cracked. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Atsumu ran his fingers through his hair. He looked stressed, defeated, and, above all else, exhausted. “I ain’t interested in the stupid promotion. Never was in the beginnin’, anyway, ‘cause I hate my job and I hate workin’ and if I had it my way, I’d make good money sittin’ around on my ass doin’ nothin.” Atsumu steeled his gaze at Sakusa. “I accepted Meian’s nomination because why the fuck wouldn’t I? He offered, and I wasn’t about to turn him down just cuz I ain’t in love with my job. I don’t deserve a promotion not cuz I’m a terrible worker. I don’t deserve it because I don’t care about it, and prolly never did.”

“You lied to me.” 

Atsumu’s face contorted. “Omi—”

“No. You lied to my face whenever we talked about the application process after you’d already withdrawn.” This, for some reason, hurt even worse. Sakusa had always known he’d had a little bit of trust issues—people may have attributed it to a superiority complex—which was part of the reason why he’d rather do things himself rather than have other people do it for him. But Atsumu had never lied to him, not that he was aware of, and certainly not over something that had brought them together in the first place. This was another first that they shared, and one that Sakusa had never imagined he’d have to share with Atsumu. “You didn’t even give me the chance to talk about it with you.”

“Because I knew there was no way you’d be fine with it.”

“Well, I thought there was no way you’d put your pride to the side to let me get a promotion if you forfeited.” Sakusa’s jaw clicked as he clenched it, willing the sting in his chest to evaporate. “So I guess we both operated under assumptions.”

Atsumu’s lips parted, desperate for words to say, but all thoughts failed him. He looked small and lost, eyes searching for an answer that Sakusa could not give. 

“If you know me so well, Miya,” Sakusa said, “then you shouldn’t be doubting me.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“You’re telling me that you are essentially handing me a promotion on a silver platter because I don’t have anything better going on outside of work.” Sakusa shook his head. An unsettling feeling sank its claws into his chest. “Do you know how insulting that is?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Atsumu’s eyes flashed with regret and he reached for Sakusa, but Sakusa backed away. “You  _ know _ I—ugh. This is comin’ out wrong.”

“I need to think about this,” Sakusa muttered. He looked away from the ache that covered Atsumu’s face and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with this, not now, not ever. “I need time to think about this.”

Atsumu pursed his lips. “However much you need, I’ll give that to you.”

Sakusa nodded. He picked up the manila folder, contents and all, and tossed it into the trash. He and Atsumu stood, staring at each other, almost longingly, and Sakusa knew he should let it go. But he was too worked up to come to that rational decision.

“I’ll letcha go on ahead first.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll talk later.”

Sakusa made a noncommittal hum, and he didn’t miss the flicker of torment that danced at the downturned curve of Atsumu’s lips.

“For what it’s worth,” Atsumu said quietly as Sakusa opened the door, “I really do think you deserve a promotion.”

Sakusa turned over his shoulder, eyes lingering on Atsumu. The same man who used to look at him with arrogant attitude crumbled under his gaze. “For what it’s worth, Miya, you’re wrong about one thing. I  _ do _ have other things outside of my work life.”

Judging by Atsumu’s expression, he knew what Sakusa had wanted to say, and the confession hung in the air as the door clicked shut between them.

* * *

Sakusa’s shitty morning left him sluggish for the rest of the day.  _ This _ was why he thought messing around with coworkers was bad—not only were he and Atsumu not currently speaking, but they had to pretend the other didn’t exist, either. Perhaps he was just projecting, but Sakusa could’ve sworn everyone else in the office was extra cautious about their words and movements. It was like the air rang with impending doom, strictly caused by the emotional turmoil split between Sakusa and Atsumu.

> **Instant Message From** : Adriah Thomas
> 
> Trouble in Paradise?
> 
> **Instant Message To** : Adriah Thomas
> 
> Kindly fuck off.

Sakusa was grateful for a distraction that came in the form of a boring meeting. The quarterly reports from Meian were a feeble attempt at boosting company morale, but Sakusa didn’t mind it if it gave him something else to think about.

He piled into the conference room. Atsumu was already seated on the far end of the table, texting furiously on his phone, not paying attention to anyone around him. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket nor his tie, and Sakusa thought, bitterly, that it was because Atsumu didn’t have to worry about his appearances now that he was out of the running for the manager position.

Sakusa sunk into his chair, trying not to get too annoyed by Konoha, who was poking fun of Bokuto beside him and completely unaware that his chair kept bumping into Sakusa’s. Their department, consisting of fifteen people under director level, was crammed into a conference room with a projection showing MSBY’s main logo. Inunaki was clicking around on the computer and Sakusa’s coworkers chattered in side conversations. Sakusa kept his eyes fixed on his hands. He wanted to be out of this office building and in the comfort of his own room where he could try to understand why he was still so pressed about Atsumu.

When Meian finally entered, a couple minutes behind the clock, the conversation lulled. Meian, as always, wore a crisp suit. He smiled broadly at the department and said, “Welcome, everyone! It’s been an eventful first quarter. Hopefully I won’t be too long.” 

As Meian rambled on about first quarter highlights—including Seijoh’s contract, which he’d put an entire slide for, and the pictures of Sakusa and Atsumu on the top corner of the screen felt like a knife twisting in his gut—Sakusa tried to keep his mind off of Atsumu. He wanted to glance back at him to see if Atsumu was paying him any attention, but he forced himself to keep his eyes forward. 

He wasn’t mad at Atsumu—or, at least, he didn’t think he was. Sakusa had, at the very least, come to the conclusion that this wasn’t worth severing ties over. He just didn’t know how to move on from here. This was beyond his experience in emotional and social conflicts, because Sakusa never  _ got _ into emotional and social conflicts. 

Was an intervention needed? Did Atsumu need to beg for his forgiveness? Did Atsumu even  _ need _ his forgiveness? Funny enough, Sakusa found himself more concerned about his standing relationship with Atsumu other than the status of the promotion—which he hadn’t even heard results from yet.

He supposed that had to count for something.

“Ah. And for the last piece…” Meian cleared his throat as he clicked the powerpoint from the budget totals for the quarter to a blank slide. Sakusa glanced at the time. He was stunned to find that nearly an hour had passed, during which he’d talked himself in and out of different resolutions to help fix whatever between Atsumu was broken. Sakusa readjusted himself in his seat while Meian heaved a heavy sigh. “This is sort of the main reason why I’ve been constantly unavailable, and there’s no easy way to share it, so I’m going to go ahead and say it as frank as possible, and any questions you have, feel free to just ask, alright? I am available for any and all questions.”

Sakusa frowned. This wasn’t part of the agenda Inunaki had sent out.

He glanced over at Inunaki, who—confoundedly—shifted on the balls of his feet.

Strange.

“As you are all aware, I’ve been in constant communication with the Adlers throughout the past several months. It’s been difficult to keep this a secret, but there’s a lot that’s gone into this business decision.” Meian held up his clicker and pointed it to the computer to change to the next slide. He hesitated, just a moment, and with the distinct  _ click _ noise, Sakusa could’ve sworn he saw a wince on Meain’s impenetrable expression.

**MSBY Consulting, LLC joins Schweiden Adlers in unprecedented acquisition to form joint firm, MSBY Adlers Collective**

A press release dated for—tomorrow.

Meian let the slide slink in.

“This has been an enormous project on upper management’s end,” Meian continued. He spoke with the grace and directness that only a true leader could capture, and Sakusa kind of hated him for it. “When the Adlers first approached the C-suite executives, no one really knew what to expect of it. There’s been an incredible amount of back and forth between heads. If I’m being honest, half of us thought it would fall through at any given moment, which was why we didn’t want to alarm anyone by bringing it up too soon.”

“What the hell?” Aran’s face scrunched as he leaned forward to read it. “Who’s acquiring whom? Or is it a merger?”

Meian smiled politely. “What the hell, indeed. It’s a sort-of merger, Aran. The Schweiden Adlers are acquiring the fully functional business model and operations of MSBY Consulting for select divisions, and the rest will be merged accordingly. A lot of negotiation went into this, since, as you know, C-level executives can be stubborn.” Meian chuckled, but no one joined in.

Sakusa frowned. He knew acquisitions were commonplace in many industries. Obviously, it was usual that this sort of thing would remain under wraps to avoid the possibility of insider stock trading, but he didn’t understand why they were being told  _ today. _ “The final merger will be taking place beginning April—can you believe it? And it was just finalized last week.”

“It’s a good thing…right?” Adriah sounded unsure of himself.

Meian broke out into a wide grin, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, it’s a very good thing. MSBY has been growing over the past few years, and it’s about time we grew even more. MSBY is young compared to the Adlers—at least, company-history-wise—so having the support of the Aders as MSBY’s functional divisions grow is an incredible opportunity.”

“Wait, if it’s integration of business model and operations…” Konoha’s frown was audible in his voice. “Then that means…”

“I’m gonna put it bluntly.” Meian sighed. He clicked to the next slide.

**Divisions taken over by the Schweiden Adlers**

Marketing

Legal

Audits & Project Management

“Unfortunately, since the Adlers are acquiring us, not all departments are included in that.” Meian’s eyes tracked around the room at each individual person. Sakusa stared at the powerpoint, not quite processing what this meant—or refusing to believe it. “There’s no easy way to break it to you all, but the audits and project management division at MSBY will no longer exist once the merger begins. Neither will MSBY legal nor MSBY marketing. The first stage of merging processes and systems is tentatively slated for mid-April.”

He wasn’t just losing his promotion, Sakusa realized.

“This means that all the roles you fill and all the roles you were hoping to fill—” Meian glanced quickly over at Sakusa before looking away. “—will not exist.”

He was losing his job.

They all were.

The heavy handed truth swelled up the room. Bokuto’s jaw hung open and Adriah looked ready to strangle someone. Aran looked tired, Kohona, annoyed, and Tsukishima was as indifferent as ever. Hinata panic-tugged Kageyama’s sleeve, eyes flickering back and forth between Kageyama’s dead expression and Meian’s somber one, and across the room, Sakusa swore he saw Atsumu smiling with a healthy dose of  _ ‘What the fuck?’ _ tickling his lips.

Sakusa’s brain turned to jelly for the hundredth time today. Just this morning he’d gotten into a heated discussion with Atsumu over a stupid promotion that wouldn’t even exist after this month. 

He was annoyed. If he’d known that Meian and the rest of upper management were going to pull this shit on him, he would’ve never applied in the first place. But no one had told him or anyone else. They hadn’t been eased into it, either, and thus the slap of reality doused them all at once, and Sakusa’s tumultuous emotions from earlier fell into a deep numbness that he better understood as shock and disbelief.

“I know this must be hard for you to process—”

The past three months, Sakusa had worked his ass off—for what?

“—but, rest assured, the Adlers and MSBY have prepared generous severance packages to carry you over until you find your next job—”

The past year and even more than that, he’d cut all ties with having any semblance of a personal life—for  _ what? _

“—and we encourage all of you to peruse open positions at Adlers & MSBY Collective when they’re available—”

Missed brunches with Komori, missed movie nights with his parents, missed dates that he’d cancelled because he was tired— _and for what?_

“—so I hope you see this as a temporary departure, rather than a long term goodbye.”

All the time Sakusa spent at his desk seeking success had driven him to fail in so many ways without even realizing it. He’d done the exact opposite of what he’d been advised to do, and now he saw the price that he’d pay: time that was wasted.

“We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

It was stupid, because if this showed Sakusa anything, it was that no matter how much he worked, no matter how many cups of coffee he drank, none of it really mattered. Sakusa’s experience with MSBY spun back to him in a violent spiral of everything he’d endured: the nights he stayed up late, the ad hoc requests he completed, the interviews he participated in to become something more—all of it was meaningless because, as demonstrated by MSBY and Adlers laying off their entire department, Sakusa realized he was, in fact, disposable.

With tension bristling in the air, Inunaki pursing his lips, and Meian wearing the most polite yet artificial expression he could offer, Sakusa—much to the shock of everyone else in the conference room—burst out laughing.


	20. the one with new opportunities

Six months.

Sakusa and Atsumu and their colleagues in the MSBY Audits and Project Management division—along with the other departments being let go—were given a generous six months of severance pay matching their salary. As Sakusa skimmed the hardcopy letter, signed off by the CEO, CFO, and COO themselves, he shook his head. He wanted to be mad, and he’d probably be pissed later, but for right now, he was just amused. 

It was absurd. All of it.

Everyone’s final work days were staggered, dependent upon the close of their current contracts. Tsukishima, who’d just filed an extension of his effective work order, would be the last employee standing; his last day would fall at the end of the coming six weeks. Konoha would be the first to go—his contract was supposed to close tomorrow.

For Sakusa, this meant that in ten days, he would officially be unemployed. What this meant for him, however, eluded him still.

“Sakusa.”

He looked up from his desk at Meian. His presentation had ended twenty minutes ago, after an extensive question and answer session that left Sakusa more jaded than satisfied. Every so often he’d glance over at Atsumu, who’d look back at him, as if to say: _can you believe this shit?_

In some ways, it comforted Sakusa. Because he wasn’t going to go through this alone. _Everyone_ in their department was given the same sentence, and there was a close kinship that came with working for a company that fucked you over. But it felt like Sakusa, of all people, was losing out on the most.

They were dismissed with one last apology, polite smiles of consolation, and heavy news to bring back home. The severance pay did little to make up for the tough news, and Sakusa could see it sagging in his coworkers’ shoulders as they filed out. Meian could apologize all he wanted, but it didn’t remedy the situation. Within six months, if they still didn’t have jobs, they were fucked.

Almost everyone in the office had left already—no one was going to get work done with that weighing on everyone’s minds—and Sakusa gazed out at the sun hanging over the Tokyo skyline. Tomorrow, the office would be full again, but the hollowness would continue to hang in the air from each worker knowing their time was coming to a close. The one exception was Inunaki, who was one of the lucky bastards that got to keep his position and stick around Meian for the next milestone in MSBY Consulting’s lifetime. 

Sakusa placed his dismissal letter on his desk. He tried not to sound too terse but failed. “Meian.”

“I wanted to chat with you for a bit. Do you have a moment?”

Sakusa glanced on the clock. He had several moments, actually, but he wasn’t exactly interested in spending them with Meian. The only reason he’d been stuck at his desk was because he was expecting a call from Hitoshi at five. “Why?”

Meian’s face softened. Sakusa knew he genuinely _was_ a good person. Brilliant and a natural leader. Firm, but with heroic amounts of tact. But good people, Sakusa had begun to learn, did not necessarily make good coworkers or bosses. “I wanted to give you my sincerest apologies, Sakusa. We’d been fully prepared to give you a full-time manager role and had a contract lined up and everything last week. But the acquisition with the Adlers ended up accelerating faster than we expected. I mean, we thought it would fall through at any moment, so we wanted to fill our immediate needs for a new manager.”

“It’s fine,” Sakusa said, although his tone indicated otherwise.

“No, it’s not. You work hard, and that’s one of the reasons why I knew you’d be perfect for the job.”

“I would have appreciated a heads up. But I understand why you or the others weren’t allowed to say so.” Sakusa clasped his hands together.

“I know, Sakusa. I wish I could’ve given you one. If it were up to me, I would’ve, but you know how these things go.” Meian shook his head, somber and calculated, and Sakusa’s insides coiled. He wanted to tell Meian off for stringing him along the past couple of months and pushing on the extra workload.

This, perhaps, was the biggest violation. If Sakusa hadn’t supposedly been considered for a promotion, who would’ve taken care of Hanamaki’s contract? Would they have made him do it anyway? Just like they’d done before?

Sakusa wanted to curse at him and to release the pent up frustration he’d swallowed since joining the company. But even _that_ didn’t seem to be too cathartic, because at the end of the day, Sakusa would be the one walking away from the company, not Meian.

“I sincerely appreciate your diligent effort in everything you do,” Meian continued, and a tendon in Sakusa’s jaw twitched. “Every single interviewer that you spoke with was impressed with your credentials, your work experience, and the way that you carry yourself. I’m not worried about you finding another job. Actually, out of everyone else in this department, I’d say you’re the least of my worries. I haven’t seen anyone else more worthy of bigger and better things than you.”

The words sounded eerily familiar and eerily empty, and Sakusa saw Meian’s words for what they _really_ were: complete and utter bullshit. Meian told him that he was worth a promotion, and that Sakusa was a capable worker, among the brightest of his generation.

But he was, at the end of the day, another person to lay off.

“Thank you,” Sakusa said, stiff and unflinching and unapologetic about it. If Meian was offended—well, Sakusa kind of wanted Meian to feel offended about it. “I’ll find bigger and better things, I’m sure.” He stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and looked Meian dead in the eye. He still admired him, of course, but admiration tinged with distaste no longer felt worth his time.

Then again, hadn’t Meian just been professional? 

“I get it, Meian. No hard feelings.”

“It’s not personal. I hope you know that.”

Sakusa wanted to burst out laughing again.

“That’s the problem with this industry,” he said. “It never is.”

Meian gave Sakusa an award-winning smile that felt forced, and he held out his business card. Sakusa accepted it reluctantly, resisting the urge to crush it in the palm of his hand before chewing it up and spitting it back in Meian’s face. “I hope we cross paths again, Sakusa. Good luck.” Meian strolled towards the exit, and Sakusa rolled his eyes. He didn’t bother saying goodbye.

Sakusa looked down at it. _MEIAN SHUGO_ , it read. _EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, AUDITS & PROJECT MANAGEMENT, MSBY CONSULTING, LLC._

On the way out of the office, Sakusa threw the business card in the trash before pushing through the doors to what lay ahead.

* * *

Sakusa had just gotten off the phone with his parents when he strolled into his apartment complex fully prepared to take a nap. They’d demanded a call as soon as possible upon receiving the news. His parents were alarmed, and reasonably so, and the alarm threatened to soak into his otherwise indifferent demeanor.

He’d spent thirty minutes explaining to his parents what was going on and why it was happening and what it meant for him. Somehow, their distress made Sakusa feel a bit calmer about the situation, because he had to talk them down from their anxiety. It would be fine, he’d said. Six months was more than enough time to find another job. His parents immediately began pulling up links to sketchy job board websites that made Sakusa sigh, knowing full well that one of them was bound to give them a computer virus.

He assured them that this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Sakusa had six months to apply and interview and settle into a new position. Given his background and the endorsements from people he’d worked with, it wouldn’t be that hard. Sakusa held onto his confidence as the single buoy keeping him afloat in the midst of uncertainty. That, at least, was intact.

Still—and this persisted even after he hung up the phone—it stung. This was the first time in Sakusa’s professional career that he’d been slapped in the face with one very fundamental fact: he wasn’t valued by the company the same way he’d valued his work life. Sakusa felt like he’d run a marathon only to find there was no finish line, after all. He supposed, in a way, he had, by the nonstop rhythm he’d taken on over the past several years and during his time at MSBY. His episode of laughter in an otherwise tense situation had caught everyone else off guard, including himself.

Perhaps some time not working would do him some good.

When Sakusa turned the corner to walk down the hall to his apartment, he stopped in his tracks. Seated on the floor of the hallway, right at his doorstep with his head leaning against the wood with eyelids fluttered shut, was Atsumu.

“Miya?”

Atsumu picked his head up and turned towards Sakusa. “Omi-kun.”

“What are you doing?”

“Waitin’ for you.” Atsumu scrambled to his feet. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that looked familiar.

Sakusa paused as Atsumu stood up. He didn’t move to grab him or punch him or hug him. Instead, Sakusa stared. The past three days felt like a lifetime between them and then some, and judging by the hesitation that flickered in Atsumu’s eyes, Atsumu felt that, too. Their argument earlier in the day felt like it happened at least a month ago, not just half a day.

He finally broke the silence after swallowing the rising lump in his throat. “I’ve been looking for those clothes.”

Atsumu looked down. “Ah. Sorry.”

Sakusa stepped to unlock the door and Atsumu skirted out of the way. Earlier this morning, he’d thought that if given the chance to speak with Atsumu again about, Sakusa would let him have it. But the unruly emotions had fizzled out like embers crackling in a dying fireplace. He wasn’t angry or hurt or bewildered anymore.

Sakusa was tired.

“I was wonderin’ what took you so long. Practically everyone left after—y’know.”

“I had a couple calls to take.” Sakusa slung his bag onto the couch and untucked his shirt from the hem of his pants.

“I see.” Atsumu stood inside Sakusa’s apartment but remained planted by the doorway, and he shifted back and forth on his feet.

“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to take your shoes off?” Sakusa asked. He headed to his bedroom to change out of his clothes and into something more comfortable, wanting, more than ever, to discard himself of the work day.

Atsumu snorted and Sakusa heard the sounds of shoes clunking on the hardwood floor. He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic with Atsumu, so he didn’t—he stripped down into his underwear and pulled on pajamas, running his fingers through his hair. Sakusa caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window and felt as though he’d aged significantly in the past ten hours.

When he came back out, Atsumu was sitting at his kitchen table. 

“I’m sorry for showin’ up unannounced,” Atsumu said. He avoided eye contact, fixing his gaze on his hands as he fiddled with his car key. Sakusa stared at his slumped over body, at the way his clothes fit snug on Atsumu’s shoulders, and he wanted, more than anything, to bury his face into the comfortable curve of his body.

“I know you hate when—”

“Stop talking.”

Atsumu whipped his head up. “Why are you—eh?”

Sakusa grabbed Atsumu by the arm and yanked him out of his chair, sending him stumbling over his feet. Atsumu’s body fell against his, and Sakusa slouched down to smother his nose at the place where Atsumu’s shoulder met his neck. Atsumu stiffened at the sudden contact, but immediately melted and wrapped his arms around Sakusa’s back. 

Sakusa inhaled deeply, only to release a shaky sigh when he exhaled. He closed his eyes and allowed his brain to empty of any thoughts, which was easier said than done. But it helped to focus on the smooth and gentle circles Atsumu rubbed onto his back with one hand, cradling the back of Sakusa’s head with the other. Sakusa’s lingering frustrations couldn’t compare to that touch, and he squeezed his arms around Atsumu’s waist even harder to communicate that.

After several minutes of them standing there like that, holding each other close, Atsumu murmured, “I’m sorry for fuckin’ with you. About the promotion thing. You were right. I shoulda toldja first.”

Sakusa tried to pull back to get a glimpse of Atsumu’s face, but Atsumu held him there, stubborn and strong as ever. 

“Even though it ended up all for nothin’, with the Adlers takin’ over and all. I still shouldn’t have gone behind yer back. I still stand by what I said, though. You deserve more than what MSBY gave you.”

“Atsumu—”

“And I hope you know that I’d do it all again.” Atsumu finally released Sakusa and pushed his curls away from his eyes. His eyes flickered to the moles on Sakusa’s temple, to the line of Sakusa’s lips, and finally, to Sakusa’s eyes. Atsumu looked at him with a mix of wonder and kindness, and Sakusa was devastated to find that—no matter how pissed he’d been at Atsumu earlier—his chest swelled. “I wasn’t really interested in the promotion in the first place. I wanted you to have it cuz of what you deserve, not cuz I’m not good enough.”

“I still think you’re wrong for it.”

“Omi, you think I’m wrong about, like, everythin’.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes but breathed into a smile. “I guess so.”

“C’mere.” Atsumu tugged Sakusa and settled onto the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. Sakusa shot him a look of disapproval before stepping over his legs to sit beside him. Atsumu pulled Sakusa close, and Sakusa sighed into the sensation of Atsumu’s chest pressed between his shoulder blades.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” 

“Fuck if know. Look for other jobs, I guess?”

“No.” Sakusa shook his head. “I don’t mean the job thing. I mean about us.”

“Ah.” Atsumu shifted underneath him. He rested the bottom of his chin atop the curve of Sakusa’s skull, and Sakusa could feel the hum from Atsumu’s vocal cords. “I suppose it depends on whatcha want.”

“What _I_ want?”

“I already toldja what I want.”

“No, you—”

“I want you.”

Sakusa’s frustration from the conflict evaporated into a disgusting fondness that he was almost embarrassed to feel. He grabbed at Atsumu’s hand and squeezed them with his fingers as he gathered his thoughts. Atsumu’s chest rose and fell as he waited, breath ticking tufts of hair on Sakusa’s scalp.

Weeks ago, Atsumu had called him prickly. He’d always called him prickly. But right now, in this moment, with Atsumu’s question hanging in the air and Sakusa’s answer not yet articulated, Sakusa didn’t feel prickly at all. Even in spite of all the shit that hit the fan.

“I don’t want you to ever do that again.” Sakusa broke the silence, and he was glad he didn’t have to see Atsumu’s face. He heard a sharp intake of a breath as he continued. “Moving out of the way for me. That’s not how it works, Atsumu.”

“Then tell me.” Atsumu brought his hand up to tilt Sakusa’s face towards his. “How this works.” His eyes crinkled, lashes thick and dark and emphasizing the curve of his eyelids.

His heart stirred, and he knew, deep down, he could come to fall for Atsumu, and that he was already in the process.

“You do your thing,” Sakusa answered honestly. “I do mine. If one of our decisions has potential to impact the other, then we talk about it. That’s how it works.”

“I see.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything dramatic. It’s quite simple, actually.”

“I like simple.”

“Do you like me?”

Atsumu blinked at the sudden change of topic before he covered it up by clearing his throat. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Do you want to date me?”

“Of course.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you asked me out?”

Atsumu groaned and he pushed Sakusa away just long enough to turn his body and make a grab for him. One hand shoved Sakusa in the chest, sending him tumbling onto his back, and Atsumu hovered over him, elbow braced beside Sakusa’s head. “Stop teasin’ me, asshole.” He stared Sakusa down, but Sakusa merely smirked in the same way Atsumu did to him, thoroughly enjoying flipping the tables. Sakusa expected a kiss, but Atsumu didn’t offer him one.

Instead, he shoved his face right up against Sakusa’s, close enough that Sakusa could smell his cherry-flavored chapstick. Atsumu’s thumbs brushed against Sakusa’s cheekbones with tenderness that Sakusa never thought was possible, and he sounded dead serious when he said, “Sakusa Kiyoomi. You’re an asshole, but I like you. So go out with me, you dumb fuck.”

“How charming.”

“Didja really expect better of me?”

“No.”

“If you don’t got nothin’ beside sass, I’m retractin’ my offer.”

“And what’ll you do then?”

Atsumu’s face twisted up in a crooked grin. “I’ll hafta find you at wherever company you end up next, get hired, then apply and compete for the same promotion as you to finally get yer attention.”

“That sounds like entirely too much effort.”

“I’m committed to my cause.”

Sakusa closed the gap between their mouths, unwilling to wait any longer. He knew, right now, he probably should’ve been outlining his next steps for his career. There was a laundry list of things to do that he had to attend to, but he didn’t care. With Atsumu’s tongue pushing into his mouth, Sakusa refused to think about it. He didn’t _want_ to think about it. 

He wanted to finally break free of driving himself into the ground from work, and if it meant getting laid off all of a sudden, dicking around for a few months on severance pay, and spending time moseying around with Miya Atsumu, then so be it.

“I was only half kiddin’ about workin’ at the same company again,” Atsumu said. He tugged Sakusa to his feet and led him to the bedroom, and Sakusa followed without hesitation. “I’m so used to seeing’ yer face everyday, so it’ll be weird not seein’ you. You’re half the reason I got through the workday, anyway, cuz there’s always somethin’ new with you. So we should do it. Shouldn’t be too hard to find a company who wants to work with us.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You didn’t like the office hand jobs?”

Sakusa shot him a disapproving look as Atsumu flopped onto the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, legs hanging over the edge, and he raised a lazy eyebrow. Sakusa sat beside him, mindlessly tracing patterns on Atsumu’s knee. “I don’t think they’d allow couples to work in the same company together.”

“Fine, then. What about the same area, at least? You’re not gonna make me suffer through long commutes across the country, are you? Or across the continent?”

Sakusa flopped onto his back and pulled Atsumu towards him. Atsumu sighed as Sakusa pressed a kiss against his mouth that promised more than he could put into words. When he pulled back, he said, “We’ll figure it out.”

Atsumu beamed, inviting and warm, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. Sakusa didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or next week, or what his next job would look like or where he would be. A huge part of his life—namely, his work—had been ripped from his hands, for better or for worse, and he had no choice but to let go.

As he thought back to all the warnings he’d received from family, from friends, from loved ones, and from coworkers, Sakusa resigned to the fact that they’d been right all along: the world didn’t end just because something had gone wrong at his day job. Work wasn’t everything.

Things were going to be okay.

* * *

The concrete in Hiroshima sizzled in the humid summer air. Sakusa caught a glimpse of himself in a passing window, and he tried his best to pat down his hair. Unfortunately, his curls didn’t take well to humidity, and he cursed at the discount gel he’d used in an attempt to tame it.

The fine sheen of sweat that had collected on his forehead chilled the moment he stepped through the door of the building. The front receptionist spoke on the phone in hushed tones, and behind him, large gold letters shone under the lights: _EJP RAIJIN, LTD_.

He approached the desk and patiently waited until the receptionist hung up. “Hi, I’m here for an interview with Kurosu-san?”

The receptionist glanced up at him. “Ah. You must be…” He clicked through his computer.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“May I see a form of identification?”

Sakusa offered his license. He basked in the air-conditioning of the office complex and hoped that he didn’t look like too much of a mess.

“Right. Here.” The receptionist handed a badge with the word _VISITOR_ printed neatly across the middle. “You’ll need that for the elevator. Floor fifteen. The front desk will guide you from there.”

“Thank you.”

The receptionist smiled politely as Sakusa crossed the polished marble floors. Four months had passed since he left MSBY Consulting. If Sakusa were being completely honest, he’d admit that they were arguably four of the best months of his life, at least since he entered the workforce.

It turned out that when Sakusa was forced to take a vacation—because he literally had nothing else to do—he actually quite enjoyed it. The first week, Sakusa had felt restless, itching to log into a laptop to check his email, but the moment he’d try to get out of bed, Atsumu would simply pull him back in. One week turned into two, which turned into three, and before Sakusa knew it, gone were the days of staying up late and waking up early. A lazy lifestyle had become the norm.

Except he _wasn’t_ lazy. Sakusa finally got a chance to go on bike rides with Komori and spend time with his younger cousins. He visited his parents in between trips Atsumu dragged him around Japan, often spontaneously, including back to Sendai, where they finally went on a double date with Hanamaki and his receptionist-fling-turned-boyfriend Matsukawa. Sakusa played volleyball—a sport he hadn’t even thought about since before he began working—with his university friends, and on the weekends, he and Atsumu went hiking, or shopping, or to the movies. Sakusa’s skin had taken on a slightly darker pallor from time spent in the sun no matter how much sunscreen he lathered on.

Or, sometimes, he and Atsumu would spend time in, having sex and cooking breakfast and rewatching episodes of _Naruto_ for days on end.

Sakusa knew he was incredibly lucky. Not everyone got paid to take a break after being laid off, and not everyone had someone to spend it with. There were still some days where he spiraled into anxious thoughts about not having a job. But for every low he hit, Atsumu was there right alongside him, coaching him with hushed murmurs of assurance and kindness. After a few episodes of that happening—usually at night—Sakusa began to trust himself enough to know that when he told himself things would work themselves out, he was speaking the truth.

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi was more than capable. This much, he knew.

The job application process was as unpleasant as ever. Sakusa had heard that Tsukishima and Bokuto already found positions elsewhere. Hinata went back to graduate school, and Kageyama travelled to the EU to visit his sister. Suna quit the industry completely in favor of supporting Osamu—his now fiancé—in growing the business. Aran had moved back home to Kobe, and Konoha took an unprecedented jump into accounting.

Life had moved on, and so had everyone else Sakusa had once called a colleague.

Sakusa stepped into the elevator and pressed the tenth floor button, tapping the badge against the reader beside the door. The doors slid shut, and in a moment of amusement, Sakusa thought back to when he’d been stuck in the elevator with Atsumu. 

He and Atsumu, on the other hand, had both agreed not to step on each other’s toes. Coming from the same company and from the same position meant that they’d be looking for similar roles, and Sakusa refused to talk about jobs or work or applications, no matter how much Atsumu needled him. When Atsumu wanted to talk about an application he submitted or a networking conference he attended or a phone call he shared with a recruiter, Sakusa merely shook his head, held up a finger, and reminded Atsumu not to talk about it. If Atsumu had to travel somewhere for an interview, Sakusa ignored him during his absence so he wouldn’t accidentally spill where he’d gone. 

Perhaps it was selfish of him, and perhaps he was a bit overprotective of it, but he wanted Atsumu to himself—their relationship, though rocky upon their first meeting at MSBY, had grown into one of mutual respect and trust that Sakusa refused to expose to nasty office politics. Sakusa was dead set on keeping Atsumu out of his work life.

What he had with Atsumu was special, and it was entirely his. So Sakusa was determined to keep it that way.

Atsumu didn’t seem to care either way, but Sakusa remained adamant on appreciating the separation of his professional and personal life. He’d gone far too long without it. He was, perhaps, overdue for a change.

“C’mon, Omi Omi,” Atsumu would tease. “Office banter is too sexy for you to just give up on us ever bein’ coworkers again.”

“You’re too much of a pain in the ass.” But Sakusa always smiled anyway.

Sakusa stepped out of the elevator and spoke with the front desk before being directed to sit in the waiting area of Kurosu’s office suite. EJP Raijin was a company that Komori had suggested to him, and he’d spoken with Washio, the consultant that had worked with MSBY all those months ago. Washio had praised EJP’s work environment and explained that he’d come from a stressful start up, so when a manager level position opened, Sakusa applied right away.

His mind flickered back in amusement at Hanamaki jumping ship to join Seijoh despite the questionable legality of his decision. Was it a violation of his contract? Probably. But he couldn’t care enough to give a shit, since the contract had long since expired.

He’d already had four interviews from other companies, and he was waiting to hear back from all of them. Sakusa’s job search was a little delayed, but he was a strong candidate such that his initial applications often had recruiters calling him within a week of submission. He could afford to be picky this time around, and he found himself interviewing around the country: Niigata, Kyoto, hell, even as far south as Nagasaki. It sort of drove his parents crazy, since they wanted him to stick around close to home, but Sakusa didn’t care.

The opportunities, Sakusa came to learn, were unlimited.

All things considered, life was turning out alright for Sakusa. As he sat in the office suite of EJP, he thought about the unexpected turn of events. Maybe there were lessons to be had, about life and the meaning of success and finding yourself outside of the confines of a sixteen-story office complex. But—as Sakusa had come to realize—maybe lessons weren’t necessary.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” The young woman at the desk clacked away at her keyboard before glancing up.

Sakusa sat up straighter. “Yes?”

“Do you need some water before heading in? Or a quick bathroom run? Kurosu-san is wrapping things up now.”

Sakusa shook his head and stood up, readjusting the lapels of his suit jacket. He double checked to make sure that his business cards were in his wallet and that his phone was turned off. “No. Thank you.”

“Feel free to head right in through the doors, then.”

“Thank you.”

Sakusa offered a wave as he opened the door that separated him with his next interview. Right as he entered the executive suite, the main doors to the office swung open, and as Sakusa strained to scope out the candidate he was up against, his eyes nearly jumped out of his sockets.

Both men stilled.

“No way.”

A shit eating grin crawled across Atsumu’s face as Sakusa suppressed the urge to laugh, scream, or curse—or any combination thereof.

Fate was funny like that, always surprising Sakusa in the small and large, the extraordinary and the mundane. Maybe it wasn’t fate so much as it was coincidence or dumb luck. As Sakusa passed by to step into another potential opportunity for his future, Atsumu mumbled under his breath with equal parts humor and incredulity that summed up everything Sakusa ever thought about his misfortune and the various ways the universe gave him a cheeky middle finger. “Oh, you have gotta be fuckin’ _kiddin’_ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Whom It May Concern:
> 
> Hi. Hello. Yes. You made it here. This is the end. Fucking hell. This is the end.
> 
> I keyboard-smash-wrote this in the wake of a grueling season of my day job. My work environment is as toxic as it can get, and I’m still struggling to maintain a good work ethic alongside a healthy work-life balance. I joke a lot that NSFW is a coping mechanism, but it genuinely has been, and I hope this fic is as comforting and entertaining for you as it was for me.
> 
> Life is fucking absurd, man. Sometimes you just need to laugh and move on. 
> 
> My next six-figure fic is a SakuAtsu Action/Sci-Fi AU, and I’m hoping to post the first chapter in April. Until then, I’ll be updating my University AU series, [Subtle Inarizaki Things](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156646) every Saturday evening (PST)! You can usually find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ginjimahitoshi), or pop on over to [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/ginjimah) if you prefer anonymity.
> 
> Thanks for reading along. Much love to you all :-)
> 
> Kind regards (and memento mori),  
> Eve


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